r-NRLF 


B    M    1DM    EMD 


ft*  *Nti  IK 


ALL-J:  LOWER 


A    RED    WALLFLOWER. 


I.    MY  DESIRE.     I2mo.     $1.75. 

"  Miss  Warner  possesses  in  a  remarkable  degree  the  power  of  vividly  describ 
ing  New  England  village  life,  the  power  of  making  her  village  people  walk  and 
talk  for  the  benefit  of  her  readers  in  all  the  freshness  of  their  clear-cut  original 
ity." — Philadelphia  Times. 

II.     THE  END  OF  A  COIL.     A   story.     718    pages.     I2mo. 

$175- 

"All  her  pictures  are  bright  and  warm  with  the  blessedness  of  true  love  and 
true  religion.  We  do  not  wonder  that  they  receive  so  wide  a  welcome,  and  we 
wish  sincerely  that  only  such  stories  were  ever  written." — N.  Y,  Observer. 

III.  THE  LETTER  OF  CREDIT.     A  Story.     $1.75. 

"  A  powerfully  written  and  thoroughly  good  book." — Golden  Rule. 

IV.  NOBODY.     A  Story.     $1.75. 

"  The  author  of  the  '  Wide,  Wide  World '  we  think  must  have  drunk  from  the 
fountain  of  youth,  so  fresh  and  vigorous  seems  she  to  us  in  her  last  new  book — 
'  Nobody.'  "—Boston  Herald. 

V.     STEPHEN,  M.D.     $1.75. 

"  She  puts  brush  to  canvas  with  the  touch  of  an  artist,  places  bright  colors 
in  her  pictures,  paints  characters  and  home  scenes  over  which  the  warm  glow  of 
love  and  religion  fall  like  sunshine." — Morning  Star. 

VI.  A  RED  WALLFLOWER.     $1.75. 

VII.  PINE  NEEDLES.     A  Tale.     I2mo.     $1.50. 

VIII.  THE  OLD  HELMET.     A  Tale.     I2mo.     $2.25. 

IX.  MELBOURNE  HOUSE.     A  Tale.     I2mo.     $2.00. 

X.  THE  KING'S  PEOPLE.     5  vols.     $7.00. 

XI.  THE  SAY  AND  DO  SERIES.     6  vols.     $7.50. 

XII.  A  STORY  OF  SMALL  BEGINNINGS.     4  vols.     $5.00. 


ROBERT    CARTER    &    BROTHERS, 
NEW   YORK. 


A    RED   WALLFLOWER 


BY    THE    AUTHOR    OF 

THE   WIDE,   WIDE   WORLD" 


"  I  saw  that  both  my  own  failure,  and  such  success  in  petty  things  as  in  its 
poor  triumph  seemed  to  me  worse  than  failure,  came  from  the  want  of  suf 
ficiently  earnest  effort  to  understand  the  whole  law  and  meaning  of  existence 
and  to  bring  it  to  noble  and  due  end." — RUSKIN. 


NEW  YORK 

ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS 

530  BROADWAY 

1884 


Copyright,   1884, 
BY  ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS. 


St.   Johnland  Cambridge: 

Stereotype  Foundry,  Pr*ss  °f 

Suffolk  Co.,  N.  Y.  John  Wilson  &•>  SOM. 


NOTE  TO   THE  READER. 

The  story  following  is  again  in  its  whole  chain  of 
facts  a  true  story.  I  beg  it  be  understood,  that  the 
denomination  feeling  described  in  the  two  families  is 
no  invention  of  mine  but  part  of  the  essential  truth  of 
the  history,  as  are  also  the  peculiar  ways  in  which 
the  feeling  shewed  itself. 

£    W. 

MARTL^ER'S   ROCK, 
June  21,  1884. 


M510742 


CONTENTS. 


I.    AFTER   DANDELIONS  .  •  •  •          9 

II.    AT   HOME 

HI.    THE   BOX   OF   COINS          .  .  •  •  .32 

IV.    LEARNING 

V.    CONTAMINATION 53 

VI.    GOING    TO    COLLEGE   .  .  .  •  •  64 

VII.    COMING   HOME 74 

VIII.    A   NOSEGAY          ...••• 

IX.    WANT    OF   COMFORT 107 

X.    THE   BLESSING 118 

XI.    DISSENT         .  130 

XH.    THE   VACATION  .  •  •  •  •          145 

XIII.    LETTERS 155 

XIV.    STRUGGLES 166 

XV.    COMFORT 

XVI.    REST   AND   UNREST 

XVII.    MOVING 205 

XVIII.    A   NEIGHBOUR    ....••          215 

XIX.    HAPPY   PEOPLE •    224 

XX.    SCHOOL 237 

xxi.  THE  COLONEL'S  TOAST           •  247 

xxn.  A  QUESTION 259 

XXIII.    A    DEBATE     .  .  .  •  •  •  .276 

XXIV.    DISAPPOINTMENT  . 

(7) 


8  CONTENTS. 

XXV.    A    HEAD    OP    LETTUCE     .....  308 

XXVI.    WAYS   AND    MEANS 320 

XXVII.    ONIONS 333 

XXVIII.    PEACHES 343 

XXIX.    HAY   AND    OATS 352 

XXX.    A    HOUSE 367 

XXXI.    MAJOR   STREET 379 

XXXII.    MOVING 390 

xxxin.  BETTY         .         .         .        .         .         .         .407 

XXXTV.    HOLIDAYS  .  .  .  .  .  .418 

XXXV.    ANTIQUITIES 432 

XXXVI.    INTERPRETATIONS         .....          447 

XXXVII.    A    STAND 468 

XXXVIII.    LIFE   PLANS 481 

XXXIX.  SKIRMISHING .497 

XL.  LONDON  . 517 

XLI.  AN  OLD  HOUSE    .         .         .         .         .         .529 

XT.TT.  THE  TOWER 541 

XLIII.  MARTIN'S  COURT 551 

XLIV.  THE    DUKE    OF    TREFOIL        .  .  .  .          563 

XLV.  THE    ABBEY  ......    577 

XLVI.  A    VISIT 596 

XLVII.  A    TALK 610 

XLVIII.  A    SETTLEMENT  .....          628 


A    RED   WALLFLOWER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

AFTEK    DANDELIONS. 

IT  is  now  a  good  many  years  ago,  that  an  English 
family  came  over  from  the  old  country  and 
established  itself  in  one  of  the  small  villages  that 
are  scattered  along  the  shore  of  Connecticut.  Why 
they  came,  was  not  clearly  understood  ;  neither  was 
it  at  all  to  be  gathered  from  their  way  of  life  or 
business.  Business  properly  they  had  none;  and 
their  way  of  life  seemed  one  of  placid  contentment 
and  unenterprising  domestic  pleasure.  The  head 
of  the  family  was  a  retired  army  officer,  now  past 
the  prime  of  his  years;  tall,  thin,  grey,  and  grave; 
but  a  gentleman  through  and  through.  Every 
body  liked  Col.  Gainsborough,  although  nobody 
could  account  for  a  man  of  his  age  leading  what 
seemed  such  a  profitless  life.  He  was  doing  really 
nothing;  staying  at  home  with  his  wife  and  his 
books.  Why  had  he  come  to  Connecticut  at  all? 
If  he  lived  for  pleasure,  surely  his  own  country 
would  have  been  a  better  place  to  seek  it.  Nobody 


10  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

could  solve  this  riddle.  That  Col.  Gainsborough 
had  anything  to  be  ashamed  of,  or  anything  to 
be  afraid  of,  entered  nobody's  head  for  a  moment. 
Fear  or  shame  were  unknown  to  that  grave,  calm, 
refined  face.  The  whisper  got  about,  how  it  is 
impossible  to  say,  that  his  leaving  home  had  been 
occasioned  by  a  disagreement  with  his  relations. 
It  might  be  so.  No  one  could  ask  him,  and  the 
colonel  never  volunteered  to  still  curiosity  on  the 
subject. 

The  family  was  small.  Only  a  wife  and  one  little 
girl  came  with  the  colonel  to  America;  and  they 
were  attended  by  only  two  old  retainers,  a  man  and 
a  woman.  They  hired  no  other  servants  after  their 
arrival,  which  however  struck  nobody  as  an  admis 
sion  of  scantness  of  means.  According  to  the  views 
and  habits  of  the  countryside,  two  people  were  quite 
enough  to  look  after  three ;  the  man  outside  and  the 
woman  inside  the  house.  Christopher  Bounder  took 
care  of  the  garden  and  the  cow,  and  cut  and  cured 
the  hay  from  one  or  two  little  fields.  And  Mrs. 
Barker,  his  sister,  was  a  very  capable  woman  in 
deed;  and  quite  equal  to  the  combined  duties  of 
housekeeper,  cook,  lady's  maid  and  housemaid, 
which  she  fulfilled  to  everybody's  satisfaction,  in 
cluding  her  own.  However,  after  two'  or  three 
years  in  Seaforth  these  duties  were  somewhat  less 
ened  ;  the  duties  of  Mrs.  Barker's  hands,  that  is,  for 
her  head  had  more  to  do.  Mrs.  Gainsborough, 
who  had  been  delicate  and  failing  for  some  time, 
at  last  died;  leaving  an  almost  inconsolable  hus- 


AFTER  DANDELIONS.  11 

band  and  daughter  behind  her.  I  might  with 
truth  say  quite  inconsolable;  for  at  the  time  I 
speak  of,  a  year  later  than  Mrs.  Gainsborough's 
death,  certainly  comfort  had  come  to  neither  fa 
ther  nor  daughter. 

It  was  one  morning  in  springtime.  Mrs.  Barker 
stood  at  the  door  of  her  kitchen  and  called  to  her 
brother  to  come  in  to  breakfast.  Christopher  slowly 
obeyed  the  summons,  leaving  his  spade  stuck  up 
right  in  the  bed  he  was  digging,  and  casting  loving 
looks  as  he  came  at  the  budding  gooseberry  bashes. 
He  was  a  typical  Englishman ;  ruddy,  fair-skinned, 
blue-eyed,  of  very  solid  build,  and  shewing  the 
national  tendency  to  flesh.  He  was  a  handsome 
man,  and  not  without  a  sufficiency  of  self-con 
sciousness,  both  as  regarding  that  and  other  things. 
Mrs.  Barker  was  a  contrast ;  for  she  was  very  plain, 
some  years  older  than  her  brother,  and  of  rather 
spare  habit  though  large  frame.  Both  faces  shewed 
sense,  and  the  manner  of  both  indicated  that  they 
knew  their  own  minds. 

"Season's  late,"  observed  Mrs.  Barker,  as  she 
stepped  back  from  the  door  and  lifted  her  coffee 
pot  on  the  table. 

"Uncommon  late," — answered  her  brother.  "Buds 
on  them  gooseberry  bushes  only  just  shewin'  green. 
Now  everything  will  be  coming  all  together  in  a  heap 
in  two  weeks  more.  That's  the  way  o'  this  blessed 
climate !  And  then  when  everything's  started, 
maybe  a  frost  will  come  and  slap  down  on  us." 

"Peas  in?" 


12  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Peas  in  a  fortnight  ago.  They'll  be  shewin' 
their  heads  just  now." 

"Christopher,  can  you  get  me  some  greens  to 
day  ?  " 

'* Greens  for  what?" 

"  Why  for  dinner.  Master  likes  a  bit  o'  boiled 
beef  now  and  again,  which  he  used  to,  anyway; 
and  I  thought,  greens  is  kind  o'  seasonable  at 
this  time  o'  year,  and  I'd  try  him  with  'em.  But 
la !  he  don't  care  no  more  what  he  eats." 

"How  is  the  old  gentleman?  " 

"  Doin'  his  best  to  kill  hisself,  I  should  say." 

"  Looks  like  it,"  said  Christopher,  going  on  with 
a  good  breakfast  the  while,  in  a  business  man 
ner.  "When  a  man  don't  care  no  more  what  he 
eats,  the  next  thing'll  be,  that  he'll  stop  it;  and 
then  there's  only  one  thing  more  he  will  do." 

"  What's  that  ?  " 

"  Die,  to  be  sure  ! " 

"  He  aint  dyin'  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Barker  thought 
fully,  "but  he  aint  doin'  the  best  he  can  wi's  life, 
for  certain.  Can  ye  get  me  some  greens,  Christo 
pher  ?  " 

"Nothing  in  my  department.  I  can  take  a  knife 
and  a  basket  and  find  you  some  dandelions." 

"  Will  ye  go  fur  to  find  'em  ?  " 

"  No  furder  'n  I  can  help,  you  may  make  your 
affidavit,  with  all  there  is  to  do  in  the  garden  yet. 
What's  about  it  ?  " 

.  "  If  you're  goin'  a  walk,  I'd  let  Missie  go  along. 
She  don't  get  no  chance  for  no  diversion  what- 


AFTER  DANDELIONS.  13 

somever,  when  young  Mr.  Dallas  don't  come 
along.  She  just  mopes,  she  do;  and  it's  on  my 
mind;  and  master,  he  don't  see  it.  I  wisht  he 
would." 

"  The  little  one  does  wear  an  uncommon  solemn 
countenance,"  said  the  gardener,  who  was  in  his  way 
quite  an  educated  man  and  used  language  above 
his  station. 

"  It  do  vex  me,"  repeated  the  housekeeper. 

"  But  young  Mr.  Dallas  comes  along  pretty  often. 
If  Miss  Esther  was  a  little  older,  now,  we  should 
see  no  more  of  her  solemnity.  What  'ud  master 
say  to  that  ?  " 

"  It's  good  things  is  as  they  be,  and  we've  no 
need  to  ask.  I  don't  want  no  more  complica 
tions,  for  my  part.  It's  hard  enough  to  manage, 
as  it  is." 

"But  things  won't  stay  as  they  be,"  said  the 
gardener,  with  a  twinkle  of  his  shrewd  blue  eye 
as  he  looked  at  his  sister.  "  Do  you  expect  they 
will,  Sarah?  Miss  Esther's  growin'  up  fast,  and 
she'll  be  an  uncommon  handsome  girl  too;  do  you 
know  that  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  say  she  was  what  you'd  go  fur  to 
call  handsome,"  returned  the  housekeeper. 

"  I  doubt  you  haven't  an  eye  for  beauty.  Per 
haps  one  ought  to  have  a  bit  of  it  oneself,  to  be 
able  to  see  it  in  others." 

"Well  I  haven't  it,"  said  Mrs.  Barker;  "and  I  never 
set  up  to  have  it.  And  I  allays  thought  rosy  cheeks 
went  with  beauty;  and  Missie  has  no  more  colour 


14  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

in  her  cheeks,  poor  child,  than — well,  than  I  have 
myself." 

"  She's  got  two  eyes,  though." 

"  Who  hasn't  got  two  eyes  ? "  said  the  other 
scornfully. 

"Just  the  folks  that  haven't  an  eye,"  said  the 
gardener,  with  another  twinkle  of  his  own.  "  But 
I  tell  you,  there  aint  two  such  eyes  as  Miss  Esther's 
between  here  and  Boston.  Look  out;  other  folk 
will  find  it  out  soon,  if  you  don't.  There  aint  but 
three  years  between  twelve  and  fifteen ;  and  then 
it  don't  take  but  two  more  to  make  seventeen." 

"  Three  and  two's  five,  though,"  said  Mrs.  Barker, 
"  and  five  years  is  a  long  time.  And  Miss  Esther 
aint  twelve  yet,  neither.  Then  when'll  ye  be  goiii' 
after  the  greens,  Christopher  ?  " 

"  It'll  be  a  bit  yet.     Til  let  you  know." 

The  fair  spring  morning  was  an  hour  or  two  fur 
ther  on  its  way,  accordingly,  when  the  gardener 
and  the  little  girl  set  out  on  their  quest  after  greens. 
Yet  it  was  still  early,  for  the  kitchen  breakfast  was 
had  betimes.  The  gardener  carried  a  basket,  and 
Esther  too  did  the  like;  in  hers  there  was  a  small 
trowel,  for  "  she  might  find  something  "  she  said. 
Esther  always  said  that,  although  hitherto  her 
"findings"  had  amounted  to  nothing  of  any 
account;  unless  indeed  I  correct  that,  and  say,  in 
any  eyes  but  her  own.  For  in  Esther's  eyes  every 
insignificant  growth  of  the  woods  or  the  fields 
had  a  value  and  a  charm  inexpressible.  Nothing 
was  "common,"  to  her,  and  hardly  anything  that 


AFTER  DANDELIONS.  15 

grew  was  relegated  to  the  despised  community  of 
"  weeds." 

"What  are  you  going  for  now,  Christopher?" 
she  asked  as  they  trudged  on  together. 

u  Well,  miss,  my  old  woman  there  has  sent  me 
for  some  greens.  She  has  a  wild  tooth  for  greens, 
she  has,"  he  added,  half  to  himself. 

"  What  sort  of  greens  can  you  get  ?  " 

"There's  various  sorts  to  be  had,  Miss  Esther;  a 
great  variety  of  the  herbs  of  the  field  are  good  for 
eating,  at  the  different  times  o'  the  year;  even  here 
in  this  country ;  and  1  do  suppose  there  aint  a  poorer 
on  the  face  o'  the  earth  !  " 

"  Than  this  country  ?  than  Seaforth  ?  0  Christo 
pher  !  " — 

"  Well  m'm,  it  beats  all  I  ever  knew,  for  poor 
ness.  You  should  see  England  once,  Miss  Esther ! 
That's  the  place  for  gardens;  and  the  fields  is  allays 
green;  and  the  flowers  do  be  beautiful;  and  when 
the  sun  shines,  it  shines;  here  it  burns." 

"  Not  to  day,"  said  Esther  gleefully.  "  How  nice 
it  is  !  " 

She  might  say  so ;  for  if  the  spring  is  rough  in 
New  England,  and  there  is  no  denying  it,  there  do 
nevertheless  come  days  of  bewitching,  entrancing, 
delicious  beauty,  in  the  midst  of  the  rest.  Days 
when  air  and  sky  and  sunlight  are  in  a  kind  of 
poise  of  delight,  and  earth  beneath  them  is  as  it 
were  still  with  pleasure.  I  suppose  the  spring  may 
be  more  glorious  in  other  lands,  more  positively 
glorious;  whether  relatively,  I  do  not  know.  With 


16  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

such  contrasts  before  and  behind  them,  contrasts 
of  raw,  chill  air  and  rough,  cutting  winds,  with 
skies  of  grey  and  gloom,  one  of  these  perfect  days 
of  a  lost  Paradise  stands  in  a  singular  setting.  It 
was  such  a  day  when  Esther  and  Christopher 
went  after  dandelions.  Still,  balmy  air,  a  tender 
sky  slightly  veiled  with  spring  mistiness;  light  and 
warmth  so  gentle  that  they  were  a  blessing  to  a 
weary  brain,  yet  so  abundant  that  every  bud  and  leaf 
and  plant  and  flower  was  unfolding  and  out-spring 
ing  and  stretching  upward  and  dispensing  abroad 
all  it  had  of  sweetness.  The  air  was  filled  with 
sweetness;  not  the  heavy  odours  of  the  blossoms 
of  summer,  or  the  South;  but  a  more  delicate  and 
searching  fragrance  from  resinous  buds  and  freshly 
opened  tree  flowers  and  the  young  green  of  the 
shooting  leaf.  I  don't  know  where  Spring  gets  it 
all,  but  she  does  fling  abroad  her  handfuls  of  per 
fume  such  as  Summer  has  no  skill  to  concoct,  or 
perhaps  she  lacks  the  material.  Esther  -drew  in 
deep  breaths,  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  breathing, 
ancl  looked  on  all  the  world  of  nature  before  her 
with  an  eye  of  quiet  but  intense  content. 

Christopher  had  been  quite  right  in  his  hint 
about  Esther's  eyes.  They  were  of  uncommon  char 
acter.  Thoughtful,  grave,  beautiful  eyes;  large, 
and  fine- in  contour  and  colour;  too  grave  for  the 
girl's  years.  But  Esther  had  lived  all  her  life  so 
far  almost  exclusively  with  grown  people,  and  very 
sober  grown  people  too;  for  her  mother's  last  years 
had  been  dulled  with  sickness,  and  her  father's 


AFTER  DANDELIONS.  17 

with  care,  even  if  he  had  not  been — which  he  was, 
— of  a  taciturn  and  sombre  deportment  in  the  best 
of  times.  And  this  last  year  past  had  been  one 
heavy  with  mourning.  So  it  was  no  wonder  if  the 
little  girl's  face  shewed  undue  thoughtfulness  and 
a  shade  of  melancholy  all  premature.  And  Chris 
topher  was  honestly  glad  to  see  the  melancholy  at 
least  vanish  under  the  influence  of  the  open  earth 
and  sky.  The  thoughtfulness  he  hoped  would  go 
too,  some  day. 

The  walk  in  itself  offered  nothing  remarkable. 
Fields,  where  the  grass  was  very  green  and  fast 
growing ;  other  fields  that  were  rocky  and  broken 
and  good  for  little  except  the  sheep,  and  sometimes 
rose  into  bare  ridges  and  heights  where  spare 
savins  were  mingled  with  a  variety .  of  deciduous 
trees;  such  was  the  ground  the  two  went  over  this 
morning.  This  morning  however  glorified  every 
thing;  the  fields  looked  soft,  the  moss  and  lichens 
on  the  rocks  were  moist  and  fresh  coloured,  grey 
and  green  and  brown ;  the  buds  and  young  leafage 
of  the  trees  were  of  every  lovely  hue  and  shade 
that  young  vegetation  can  take;  and  here  and 
there  Esther  found  a  wild  flower.  When  she  found 
.one,  it  was  very  apt  to  be  taken  up  by  the  roots  with 
her  little  trowel  and  bestowed  in  her  basket  for 
careful  transport  home ;  and  on  the  so  endangered 
beauties  in  her  basket  Esther  looked  down  from 
time  to  time  with  fond  and  delighted  eyes. 
"  Are  you  going  for  cresses,  Christopher  ?  " 
"  No,  Miss  Esther,  not  at  this  time.  Sarah  has 


18  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

set  her  mind  that  she  must  have  boiled  greens  for 
dinner;  and  her  will  must  be  done.  And  here  is 
the  article — not  boiled  yet,  however. — " 

He  stopped  and  stooped,  and  with  a  sharp  knife 
cut  a  bunch  of  stout  looking  leaves  growing  in  the 
grass;  then  made  a  step  to  another  bunch,  a  yard 
off,  and  then  to  another. 

"What  are  they,  Christopher?" 

"Just  dandelions,  Miss  Esther.  Leontodon  tar 
axacum." 

"Dandelions!     But  the  flowers  are  not  out  yet." 

"No,  Miss  Esther.  If  they  was  out,  Sarah  might 
whistle  for  her  greens." 

"  Why  ?     You  could  tell  better  where  they  are." 

"  They  wouldn't  be  worth  the  finding,  though." 

Christopher  went  on  busily  cutting.  He  did  not 
seem  to  need  the  yellow  blossoms  to  guide  him. 

"  How  can  you  be  sure,  Christopher,  that  you  are 
always  getting  the  right  ones  ?  " 

"  Know  the  look  o'  their  faces,  Miss  Esther." 

"Thefloiuers  are  their  faces," — said  the  little  girl. 

Christopher  laughed  a  little.  "Then  what  are 
the  leaves  ?  "  said  he. 

"  I  don't  know. — The  whole  of  them  together 
shew  the  form  of  the  plant." 

"Well,  Miss  Esther,  wouldn't  you  know  your 
father,  the  colonel,  as  far  off  as  you  could  see  him, 
just  by  his  figger  ?  " 

"But  I  know  papa  so  well." 

"  Not  better  than  I  know  the  Leontodon.  See, 
Miss  Esther, — look  at  these  runcinate  leaves." 


AFTER  DANDELIONS.  19 

"Kuncinate?" 

"Toothed — pinnatifid.  That's  what  it  gets  its 
name  from;  lion's  tooth.  Leontodon  comes  from 
two  Greek  words  which  mean  a  lion  and  a  tooth. 
See — there  aint  another  leaf  like  that  in  the  hull 
meadow." 

"  There  are  a  great  many  kinds  of  leaves ! "  said 
Esther  musingly. 

"Like  men's  human  figgers,"  said  the  gardener 
sagely.  "  Aint  no  two  on  'em  just  alike." 

Talking  and  cutting,  they  had  crossed  the  mead 
ow  and  came  to  a  rocky  height  which  rose  at  one 
side  of  it ;  such  as  one  is  never  very  far  from  in 
New  England.  Here  there  were  no  dandelions, 
but  Esther  eagerly  sought  for  something  more  or 
namental.  And  she  found  it.  With  exclamations 
of  deep  delight  she  endeavoured  to  dig  up  a  root  of 
bloodroot  which  lifted  its  most  delicate  and  dainty 
blossom  a  few  inches  above  the  dead  leaves  and 
moss  with  which  the  ground  under  the  trees  was 
thickly  covered.  Christopher  came  to  her  help. 

"  What  are  you  goin'  to  do  with  this  now,  Miss 
Esther?" 

"  I  want  to  plant  it  out  in  my  garden.  Won't  it 
grow  ?  " 

Christopher  answered  evasively.  "These  here 
purty  little  things  is  freaky,"  said  he.  "  They  has 
notions.  Now  the  Sanguinaria  likes  just  what  it 
has  got  here ;  a  little  bit  of  rich  soil,  under  shade 
of  woods,  and  with  covering  of  wet  dead  leaves 
for  its  roots.  It's  as  dainty  as  a  lady." 


20  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Sanguinaria?"  said  Esther.  "I  call  it  blood- 
root." 

"Sdnguinaria  canadensis.  That's  its  name,  Miss 
Esther." 

"  Why  isn't  the  other  its  name  ?  " 

"  That's  its  nick-name,  you  may  say.  Look  here, 
Miss  Esther, — here's  the  Hepatica  for  you." 

Esther  sprang  forward,  to  where  Christopher  was 
softly  pushing  dead  leaves  and  sticks  from  a  little 
low  bunch  of  purple  flowers.  She  stretched  out 
her  hand  with  the  trowel,  then  checked  herself. 

"  Won't  that  grow  either,  Christopher  ?  " 

"It'll  grow  here,  Miss  Esther.  See, — aint  that 
nice  ?  "  he  said  as  he  bared  the  whole  little  tuft. 

Esther's  sigh  came  from  the  depths  of  her  breast, 
as  she  looked  at  it  lovingly. 

44  This  is  Hepatica  acutiloba.  I  dare  say  we'd  find 
the  other,  if  we  had  time  to  go  all  over  the  other 
side  of  the  hill." 

44  What  other  ?  " 

44  The  americana,  Miss  Esther.  But  I'm  think 
ing,  them  greens  must  go  in  the  pot." 

44  But  what  is  this  lovely  little  thing  ?  what's  its 
name,  I  mean  ? ' 

44 It's  the  Hepatica,  Miss  Esther;  folks  call  it 
liverleaf.  We  ought  to  find  the  Aquilegia,  by  this 
time;  but  I  don't  see  it." 

44  Have  you  got  dandelions  enough  ?  " 

44  All  I'll  try  for.  Here's  something  for  you 
though," — said  he,  reaching  up  to  the  branches  of 
a  young  tree  the  red  blossoms  of  which  were  not 


AFTER  DANDELIONS.  21 

quite  out  of  reach; — "here's  something  pretty  for 
you ;  here's  Acer  rubrum." 

"  And  what  is  Acer  rubrum  ?  " 

"  Just  soft  maple,  Miss  Esther." 

"  Oh  that  is  beautiful ! — Do  you  know  everything 
that  grows,  Christopher  ?  " 

"No,  Miss  Esther;  there's  no  man  living  that 
does  that.  They  say  it  would  take  all  one  man's 
life  to  know  just  the  orchids  of  South  America; 
without  mentioning  all  that  grows  in  the  rest  of 
the  world.  There's  an  uncommon  great  number 
of  plants  on  the  earth,  to  be  sure  1 " 

"And  trees." 

"  Aint  trees  plants,  mum  ?  " 

"  Are  they  ?  Christopher,  are  those  dandelions 
weeds  ?  " 

"No,  Miss  Esther;  they're  more  respectable." 

"  How  do  you  know  they're  not  weeds  ?  " 

Christopher  laughed  a  little,  partly  at  his  ques 
tioner,  partly  at  the  question;  nevertheless  the 
answer  was  riot  so  ready  as  usual. 

"They  aint  weeds  however,  Miss  Esther;  that's 
all  I  can  tell  you." 

"  What  are  weeds,  then  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  mum,"  said  Christopher  grimly. 
"They're  plants  that  has  no  manners." 

"  But  some  good  plants  have  no  manners,"  said 
Esther  amused.  "  I  know  I've  hear'd  you  say,  they 
ran  over  everything,  and  wouldn't  stay  in  their 
places.  You  said  it  of  moss  pink,  and  lily  of  the 
valley.  Don't  you  remember?  " 


22  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Yes  mum,  I've  cause  to  remember;  by  the 
same  token  I've  been  trimming  the  box.  That 
thing  grows  whenever  my  back  is  turned  1 " 

"  But  it  isn't  a  weed?'* 

"No  mum!  no  mum!  The  Buxus  is  a  very 
distinguished  family  indeed,  and  holds  a  high  rank, 
it  does." 

"  Then  I  don't  see  what  is  a  weed,  Christopher." 


CHAPTER  II. 
AT    HOME. 

UPON  reaching  home  Esther  sought  to  place  her 
bloodroot  in  safety,  giving  it  a  soft  and  well 
dug  corner  in  her  little  plot  of  garden  ground.  She 
planted  it  with  all  care  in  the  shadow  of  a  rose 
bush  ;  and  then  went  in  to  put  her  other  flowers  in 
water. 

The  sitting  room,  whither  she  went,  was  a  large, 
low,  pleasant  place;  very  simply  furnished,  yet 
having  a  cheerful,  cosy  look,  as  places  do  where 
people  live  who  know  how  to  live.  The  room,  and 
the  house,  no  doubt  owed  its  character  to  the  rule 
and  influence  of  Mrs.  Gainsborough,  who  was  there 
no  longer,  and  to  a  family  life  that  had  passed 
away.  The  traces  abode  still.  The  chintz  hang 
ings  and  the  carpet  were  of  soft  colours  and  in 
good  harmony;  chairs  and  lounges  were  comfort 
able  ;  a  great  many  books  lined  the  walls,  so  many  in 
deed  that  the  room  might  have  been  styled  the  li 
brary.  A  portfolio  with  engravings  was  in  one  place ; 
Mrs.  Gainsborough's  work  table  in  another ;  some  ex 
cellent  bronzes  on  the  book  cases;  one  or  two  family 

(23) 


24  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

portraits,  by  good  hands;  and  an  embroidery  frame. 
A  fine  English  mastiff  was  sleeping  on  the  rug  be 
fore  the  fire.  For  the  weather  was  still  cold  enough 
within  doors  to  make  a  fire  pleasant;  and  Col. 
Gainsborough  was  a  chilly  man. 

He  lay  on  the  couch  when  Esther  came  in  with 
her  flowers;  a  book  in  his  hand,  but  not  held  be 
fore  his  eyes.  He  was  a  handsome  man,  of  a 
severe,  grave  type;  though  less  well  looking  at 
this  time  because  of  the  spiritless,  weary,  depressed 
air  which  had  become  his  habit;  there  was  a  want 
of  spring  and  life  and  hope  in  the  features  and  in 
the  manner  also  of  the  occupant  of  the  sofa.  He 
looked  at  Esther  languidly,  as  she  came  in  and 
busied  herself  with  arranging  her  maple  blos 
soms,  her  Hepatica  and  one  or  two  delicate  stems 
of  the  bloodroot  in  a  little  vase.  Her  father  looked 
at  the  flowers  and  at  her,  in  silence. 

"Papa,  aren't  those  beautiful*?"  she  asked  with 
emphasis,  bringing  the  vase,  when  she  had  finished, 
to  his  side. 

"  What  have  you  got  there,  Esther?" 

"  Just  some  anemones,  and  liverleaf,  and  blood- 
root,  and  maple  blossoms,  papa;  but  Christopher 
calls  them  all  sorts  of  big  names." 

"They  are  very  fragile  blossoms,"  the  colonel 
remarked. 

"  Are  they  ?  They  won't  do  in  the  garden, 
Christopher  says,  but  they  grow  nicely  out  there 
in  the  wood.  Papa,  what  is  the  difference  between 
a  weed  and  a  flower  ?  " 


AT  HOME.  25 

"  I  should  think  you  were  old  enough  to  know." 

"  I  know  them  by  sight — sometimes.  But,  papa, 
what  is  the  difference  ?  " 

"  Your  eyes  tell  you,  do  they  not  ?  " 

"No,  sir.  They  tell  me,  sometimes,  which  is 
which ;  but  I  mean,  why  isn't  a  flower  a  weed  ?  I 
asked  Christopher,  but  he  couldn't  tell  me." 

44 1  do  not  understand  the  question.  It  seems  to 
me  you  are  talking  nonsense." 

The  colonel  raised  his  book  again,  and  Esther 
took  the  hint  and  went  back  to  the  table  with  her 
flowers.  She  sat  down  and  looked  at  them.  Fair 
they  were,  and  fresh,  and  pure;  and  they  bore 
Spring's  messages,  to  all  that  could  hear  the  mes 
sage.  If  Esther  could,  it  was  in  a  half  unconscious 
way,  that  somehow  awakened  by  degrees  almost 
as  much  pain  as  pleasure.  Or  else,  it  was  simply 
that  the  glow  and  stir  of  her  walk  was  fading  away 
and  allowing  the  old  wonted  train  of  thought  to 
come  in  again.  The  bright  expression  passed  from 
her  face;  the  features  settled  into  a  melancholy 
dulness,  most  unfit  for  a  child  and  painful  to  see; 
there  was  a  droop  of  the  corners  of  the  mouth,  and 
a  lax  fall  of  the  eyelids,  and  a  settled  gloom  in  the 
face  that  covered  it  and  changed  it  like  a  mask. 
The  very  features  seemed  to  grow  heavy,  in  the  ut 
ter  heaviness  of  the  spirit. 

She  sat  so  for  a  while,  musing,  no  longer  busy 
with  such  pleasant  things  as  flowers  and  weeds; 
then  roused  herself.  The  weariness  of  inaction 
was  becoming  intolerable.  She  went  to  a  corner  of 


26  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

the  room,  where  a  large  mahogany  box  was  half 
concealed  beneath  a  table  covered  with  a  cloth; 
with  a  good  deal  of  effort  she  lugged  the  box  forth. 
It  was  locked,  and  she  went  to  the  sofa. 

"  Papa,  may  I  look  at  the  casts  ?  " 

44  Yes." 

"  You  have  got  the  key,  papa." 

The  key  was  fished  out  of  the  colonel's  waist 
coat  pocket,  and  Esther  sat  down  on  the  floor  and 
unlocked  the  box.  It  was  filled  with  casts  in  plas 
ter  of  Paris,  of  old  medals  and  bas  reliefs ;  and  it 
had  long  been  a  great  amusement  of  Esther's,  to 
take  them  all  out  and  look  at  them,  and  then  care 
fully  pack  them  all  away  again  between  their 
layers  of  soft  paper  and  cotton  batting.  In  the 
nature  of  the  case  this  was  an  amusement  that 
would  pall  if  too  often  repeated ;  so  it  rarely  hap 
pened  that  Esther  got  them  out  more  than  three 
or  four  times  a  year.  This  time  she  had  hardly 
begun  to  take  them  out  and  place  them  carefully 
on  the  table,  when  Mrs.  Barker  came  in  to  lay  the 
cloth  for  dinner.  Esther  must  put  the  casts  back 
and  defer  her  amusement  till  another  time  in  the 
day. 

Meals  were  served  now  for  the  colonel  and  his 
daughter  in  this  same  room,  which  served  for  sitting 
room  and  library.  The  dining-room  was  disused. 
Things  had  come  by  degrees  to  this  irregularity, 
Mrs.  Barker  finding  that  it  made  her  less  work, 
and  the  colonel  in  his  sorrowful  abstraction  hardly 
knowing  and  not  at  all  caring  where  he  took  his 


AT   HOME.  27 

dinner.  The  dinner  was  carefully  served,  however, 
and  delicately  prepared;  for  there  Barker's  pride 
came  in  to  her  help;  and  besides,  little  as  Col. 
Gainsborough  attended  now  to  the  food  he  eat,  it 
is  quite  possible  that  he  would  have  rebelled  against 
any  disorder  in  that  department  of  the  household 
economy. 

The  meal  times  were  sorrowful  occasions  to  both 
the  solitary  personages  who  now  sat  down  to  the 
table.  Neither  of  them  had  become  accustomed 
yet  to  the  empty  place  at  the  board.  The  colonel 
eat  little  and  talked  none  at  all ;  and  only  Esther's 
honest  childish  appetite  saved  these  times  from 
being  seasons  of  intolerable  gloom.  Even  so,  she 
was  always  glad  when  dinner  was  done. 

By  the  time  that  it  was  over  to-day  and  the  table 
cleared,  Esther's  mood  had  changed;  and  she  no 
longer  found  the  box  of  casts  attractive.  She  had 
seen  what  was  in  it  so  often  before,  and  she  knew 
just  what  she  should  find.  At  the  same  time  she 
was  in  desperate  want  of  something  to  amuse  her, 
or  at  least  to  pass  away  the  time,  which  went  so 
slowly  if  unaided.  She  bethought  her  of  trying 
another  box,  or  series  of  boxes,  over  which  she  had 
seen  her  father  and  mother  spend  hours  together ; 
but  the  contents  hitherto  had  not  seemed  to  her 
interesting.  The  key  was  on  the  same  chain  with 
the  key  of  the  casts;  Esther  sat  down  on  the  floor 
by  one  of  the  windows,  having  shoved  one  of  the 
boxes  into  that  neighbourhood,  turned  the  key 
and  opened  the  cover.  Her  father  was  lying  on 


28  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

the  couch  again  and  gave  her  no  attention,  and 
Esther  made  no  call  upon  him  for  help. 

An  hour  or  two  had  passed.  Esther  had  not 
changed  her  place,  and  the  box,  which  contained  a 
quantity  of  coins,  was  still  open;  but  the  child's 
hands  lay  idly  in  her  lap  and  her  eyes  were  gazing 
into  vacancy.  Looking  back,  perhaps,  at  the  images 
of  former  days;  smiling  images  of  light  and  love, 
in  scenes  where  her  mother's  figure  filled  all  the 
foreground.  Col.  Gainsborough  did  not  see  how 
the  child  sat  there,  nor  what  an  expression  of  dull, 
hopeless  sorrow  lay  upon  her  features.  All  the 
life  and  variety  of  which  her  face  was  abundantly 
capable,  had  disappeared;  the  corners  of  the  mouth 
drawn  down,  the  brow  rigid,  the  eyes  rayless,  she 
sat  an  image  of  childish  desolation.  She  looked 
even  stupid,  if  that  were  possible  to  Esther's 
features  and  character. 

What  the  father  did  not  see  was  revealed  to 
another  person,  who  came  in  noiselessly  at  the  open 
door.  This  new  comer  was  a  young  man,  hardly 
yet  arrived  at  the  dignity  of  young  manhood ;  he 
might  have  been  eighteen,  but  he  was  really  older 
than  his  years.  His  figure  was  well  developed,  with 
broad  shoulders  and  slim  hips,  shewing  great  mus 
cular  power  and  the  symmetry  of  beauty  as  well. 
The  face  matched  the  figure;  it  was  strong  and 
fine,  full  of  intelligence  and  life,  and  bearing  no 
trace  of  boyish  wilfulness.  If  wilfulness  was  there, 
which  I  think,  it  was  rather  the  considered  and 
consistent  wilfulness  of  a  man.  As  he  came  in  at 


AT   HOME.  29 

the  open  door,  Esther's  position  and  look  struck 
him ;  he  paused  half  a  minute.  Then  he  came  for 
ward,  came  to  the  colonel's  sofa,  and  standing  there 
bowed  respectfully. 

The  colonel's  book  went  down.  "Ah,  William, — " 
said  he,  in  a  tone  of  indifferent  recognition. 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir,  to-day  ?  " 

"Not  very  well !  my  strength  seems  to  be  giving 
way,  I  think,  by  degrees." 

u  We  shall  have  warm  weather  for  you  soon 
again,  sir;  that  will  do  you  good." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  colonel.  "  I  doubt  it; — 
I  doubt  it.  Unless  it  could  give  me  the  power  of 
eating,  which  it  cannot, — " 

"'  You  have  no  appetite  ?  " 

"That  does  not  express  it." 

There  was  an  almost  imperceptible  flash  in  the 
eyes  that  were  looking  down  at  him,  the  features 
however  retaining  their  composed  gravity. 

"  Perhaps  shad  will  tempt  you.  We  shall  have 
them  very  soon  now.  Can't  you  eat  shad  ?  " 

"  Shad — "  repeated  the  colonel.  "  That's  your 
New  England  piscatory  dainty?  I  have  never 
found  out  why  it  is  so  reckoned." 

"You  cannot  have  eaten  them,  sir;  that's  all. 
That  is,  not  cooked  properly.  Take  one  broiled 
over  a  fire  of  corn  cobs." 

"A  fire  of  corn  cobs ! " 

"  Yes  sir;  over  the  coals  of  such  a  fire,  of  course, 
I  mean." 

"  Ah ! — What's  the  supposed  advantage  ?  " 


30  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Flavour,  sir;  gusto;  a  spicy  delicacy,  which 
from  being  the  spirit  of  the  fire  comes  to  be  the 
spirit  of  the  fish.  It  is  difficult  to  put  anything  so 
ethereal  into  words."  This  was  spoken  with  the 
utmost  seriousness. 

44 Ah!  "—said  the  colonel.  "Possibly.  Barker 
manages  those  things." 

"You  do  not  feel  well  enough  to  read  to-day,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  colonel,  "  yes.  One  must  do 
something.  As  long  as  one  lives,  one  must  try  to 
do  something.  Bring  your  book  here,  William,  if 
you  please.  I  can  listen,  lying  here." 

The  hour  that  followed  was  an  hour  of  steady 
work.  The  colonel  liked  his  young  neighbour,  who 
belonged  to  a  family  also  of  English  extraction, 
though  not  quite  so  recently  moved  over  as  the 
colonel's  own.  Still,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
the  Dallases  were  English;  had  English  connec 
tions  and  English  sympathies;  and  had  not  so 
long  mingled  their  blood  with  American  that  the 
colour  of  it  was  materially  altered.  It  was  natural 
that  the  two  families  should  have  drawn  near  to 
gether  in  social  and  friendly  relations ;  which  rela 
tions  however  would  have  been  closer  if  in  church 
matters  there  had  not  been  a  diverging  power, 
which  kept  them  from  any  extravagance  of  neigh- 
bourliness.  This  young  fellow  however,  whom  the 
colonel  called  "  William,"  shewed  a  carelessness  as 
to  church  matters  which  gave  him  some  of  the  ad 
vantages  of  a  neutral  ground;  and  latterly,  since 
his  wife's  death,  Col.  Gainsborough  had  taken 


AT  HOME.  31 

earnestly  to  the  fine,  spirited  young  man;  wel 
comed  his  presence  when  he  came;  and  at  last, 
partly  out  of  sympathy,  partly  out  of  sheer  loneli 
ness  and  emptiness  of  life,  he  had  offered  to  read 
the  classics  with  him,  in  preparation  for  college. 
And  this  for  several  months  now  they  had  been 
doing ;  so  that  William  was  a  daily  visiter  in  the 
colonel's  house. 


CHAPTER   III. 
THE    BOX    OF    COINS. 

PHE  reading  went  on  for  a  good  hour.     Then  the 
colonel  rose  from  his  sofa  and  went  out,  and 
.young  Dallas  turned  to  Esther.     During  this  hour 
Esther  had  been  sitting  still  in  her  corner  by  her 
boxes;  not  doing  anything;  and  her  face,  which  had 
brightened  at  William's  first  coming  in,  had  fallen 
back  very  nearly  to  its  former  heavy  expression. 
Now  it  lighted  up  again,    as  the  visiter  left  his 
seat  and  came  over  to  her.     He  had  not  been  so 
taken  up  with    his   reading   but   he  had  noticed 
her  from  time  to  time;  observed  the  drooping  brow 
and  the  dull  eye,  and  the  sad  lines  of  the  lips,  and 
the  still,  spiritless  attitude.     He  was  touched  with 
pity  for  the  child,  whom  he  had  once  been  accus 
tomed  to  see  very  different  from  this.     He  came 
and  threw  himself  down  on  the  floor  by  her  eide. 

"Well,  Queen  Esther!"  said  he.     ''What  have 
you  got  there  ?  " 

"Coins." 

"  Coins !     What  are  you  doing  with  them  ? 

"  Nothing." 
(32) 


THE  Box  OF  COINS.  33 

"  So  it  seems.     What  do  you  want  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  amuse  myself." 

"  And  don't  succeed  ?  Naturally.  What  made 
you  think  you  would?  Numismatology  isn't 
what  one  would  call  a  lively  study.  What  were 
you  going  to  do  with  these  old  things,  eh?  " 

u Nothing — "  said  Esther  hopelessly.  "I  used 
to  hear  papa  talk  about  them;  and  I  liked  to  hear 
him." 

"  Why  don't  you  get  him  to  talk  to  you  about 
them  again  ?  " 

"0  he  was  not  talking  to  me." 

"  To  whom,  then  ?  " 

Esther  hesitated;  the  young  man  saw  a  veil  of 
moisture  suddenly  dim  the  grave  eyes,  and  the  lips 
that  answered  him  were  a  little  unsteady. 

"  It  was  mamma — "  she  breathed  rather  than 
spoke. 

"And  you  liked  to  hear?"  he  went  on,  purposely. 

"  0  yes.  But  now  I  can't  understand  anything 
by  myself." 

"  You  can  understand  by  yourself  as  much  as 
most  people  I  know.  Let  us  see  what  you  have 
got  here, — -'may  I  look  ?  " 

He  lifted  a  small  piece  of  metal  out  of  its  nest, 
in  a  shallow  tray  which  was  made  by  transverse 
slips  of  wood  to  be  full  of  such  nests,  or  little  square 
compartments.  The  trays  were  beautifully  ar 
ranged,  one  fitting  close  upon  another  till  they 
tilled  the  box  to  its  utmost  capacity. 

"  What  have  we  here? — This  piece  has  seen  ser 


34  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

vice.  Here  is  a  tree,  Queen  Esther — a  flourishing, 
spreading  tree;  and  below  it  the  letters,  K.  E.  P.  F. 
— if  I  read  aright, — and  then  the  word  'Keich.' 
What  is  that,  now?  'R.  E.  P.  F.  Reich.'  And 
here  is  a  motto  above, — I  am  sorry  to  say,  so  far 
worn  that  my  reading  it  is  a  matter  of  question. 
'  Er ' — that  is  plain ;  then  a  worn  word ;  then,  *  das 
Land.'  Do  you  understand  German  ?  " 

"  No.     I  don't  know  anything." 

"Too  sweeping,  Queen  Esther.  But  I  wish  I 
could  read  that  word !  Let  us  try  the  other  side. 
Ha !  here  we  h^ve  it.  '  Lud.  xvi ' — two  letters  I 
can't  make  out — then,  '  Fr.  and  Nav.  Rex.'  Louis 
the  sixteenth,  king  of  France  and  Navarre." 

"  I  know  him,  I  believe,"  said  Esther.  "  He  was 
beheaded,  wasn't  he?  in  the  great  French  revo 
lution." 

"  Just  that.     He  was  not  a  wise  man,  you  know." 

"  If  he  had  been  a  wise  man,  could  he  have  kept 
his  life?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  Queen  Esther,  whether 
any  wisdom  would  have  been  wise  enough  for 
that.  You  see,  the  people  of  France  were  mad; 
and  when  a  people  get  mad,  they  don't  listen  to 
reason,  naturally.  Here's  another,  now;  what's 
this  ?— '  Zeelandia,  1792  '—not  so  very  old.  On  the 
other  side — here's  a  shield,  peculiar  too ;  with  the 
motto  plain  enough, — '  Luctor  et  emergo.'  A  good 
motto,  that." 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means,  something  like — '  Struggle  and  come 


THE  Box  OF  COINS.  35 

out,' or 'come  through' — literally,  'emerge.'  Our 
English  word  comes  from  it.  Col.  Gainsborough 
does  not  teach  you  Latin,  then?" 

"  No,"  said  Esther  sighing.  "  He  doesn't  teach 
me  much  lately,  of  anything." 

Dallas  cast  a  quick  look  at  the  girl ;  and  saw  again 
the  expression  of  quiet  hopelessness  that  had  moved 
him.  He  went  on  turning  over  the  coins. 

"  Do  you  want  to  learn  Latin  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  learn  it,  Pitt  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  it  is  different.  I  must,  you  know. 
But  queens  are  not  expected  to  know  the  dead 
languages, — not  Queen  Esther,  at  any  rate." 

"  Do  you  learn  them  because  it  is  expected  of 
you." 

The  young  man  laughed  a  little. 

"  Well,  there  are  other  reasons. — Now  here's  a 
device.  Two  lions  rampant — shield  surmounted 
by  a  crown;  motto,  'Sp.  nos  in  Deo.'  Let  its  hope 
in  God." 

"  Whose  motto  was  that?  " 

"Just  what  I  can't  make  out.  I  don't  know  the 
shield — which  I  ought  to  know;  and  the  reverse 
of  the  coin  has  only  some  unintelligible  letters;  D. 
Gelriae,  1752.  Let  us  try  another,  Queen  Esther. — 
Ha !  here's  a  coin  of  William  and  Mary — both  their 
blessed  heads,  and  names;  and  on  the  reverse  a 
figure  three,  and  the  inscription  claiming  that  over 
Great  Britain,  France  and  Ireland,  they  were  *  Rex 


36  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

and  Regina.'  Why  this  box  of  coins  is  a  capital 
place  to  study  history." 

"  I  don't  know  history,"  Esther  said. 

"  But  you  are  going  to  know  it." 

"Am  I?     How  can  I?" 

"Read." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  read.  I  have  just  read 
a  little  history  of  England — that's  all.  Mother 
gave  me  that.  But  when  I  read,  there  are  so  many 
things  I  don't  know  and  want  to  ask  about." 

"Ask  the  colonel." 

"  0  he  don't  care  to  be  troubled,"  the  little  girl 
said  sadly. 

"  Ask  me." 

"  You  !     But  you  are  not  here  to  ask." 

"True.  Well,  we  must  see. — Ah,  here's  a  pretty 
thing!  See,  Esther — here's  an  elegant  crown, 
really  beautiful,  with  the  fleurs  de  lys  of  France, 
and  the  name  of  the  luckless  Lonis  xvi.  '  Roi  de 
France  and  de  Navarre  ' — but  no  date.  On  the 
other  side,  'Isles  de  France  and  de  Bourbon.' 
These  coins  seem  to  belong  to  European  history." 

"There's  another  box  with  Greek  and  Roman 
coins,  and,  the  names  of  Roman  emperors — but  I 
know  them  even  less  still  than  I  do  these,"  said 
Esther. 

"  Your  want  of  knowledge  seems  to  weigh  upon 
your  mind,  Queen  Esther." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  the  little  girl  resignedly. 

"Are  you  sure  of  that  ?  I  am  not. — Well,  I  wish 
I  knew  who  this  is." 


THE  Box  OF  COINS.  37 

He  had  taken  up  a  very  small  coin,  much  less 
than  a  three  cent  piece,  and  with  the  help  of  a 
magnifying  glass  was  studying  it  eagerly. 

"Why?"  said  Esther. 

"  It  is  such  a  beautiful  head  !  wonderfully  beauti 
ful;  and  old.  Crowned,  and  with  a  small  peaked 
beard — but  the  name  is  so  worn  off — On  the  other 
side  '  Justitia.'  Queen  Esther,  this  box  is  a  first- 
rate  place  to  study  history." 

"  Is  it  ?  " 

"  It  is.  What  do  you  say  ?  Suppose  you  let  me 
come  here  and  study  history  with  you  over  these 
old  coins;  and  then  you  come  over  to  my  house 
and  learn  Latin  with  me.  Hey  ?  " 

He  glanced  up,  and  Esther  looked  at  him  with  a 
wondering,  grave,  inquiring  face.  He  nodded  in 
answer  and  smiled,  a  little  quizzically. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Pitt  ?  " 

"There  was  a  wise  man  once,  who  said,  the  use 
of  language  is  to  conceal  one's  thoughts.  I  hope 
you  are  not  labouring  under  the  impression  that 
such  is  my  practice  and  belief?  " 

"But  would  you  teach  me?"  said  the  girl 
gravely. 

"If  your  majesty  approves." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  very  troublesome  to  you." 

"I  on  the  contrary  think  it  would  not." 

"  But  it  would  after  a  little  while  ?  "  said  Esther. 

"  When  I  want  to  stop,  I'll  let  you  know." 

"Will  you?     Would  you?" 

"  Both  would  and  will.' 


38  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

The  girl's  face  grew  intense  with  life,  yet  with 
out  losing  its  gravity. 

"  When,  Pitt  ?  When  would  you  teach  me,  I 
mean  ?  " 

"I  should  say,  every  day;  wouldn't  you?" 

"  And  you'll  come  here  to  study  the  coins  ?  " 

"  Arid  teach  you  what  I  learn." 

"  0  ! — And  you'll  give  me  Latin  lessons  ?  lessons 
to  study  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"And  we  will  study  history  over  the  coins?" 

"Don't  you  think  it  will  be  a  good  way?  Here's 
a  coin  of  Maria  Theresa,  now, — 1745 — Flungary 
and  Bohmen,  that  is,  Bohemia.  This  old  piece  of 
copper  went  through  the  Seven  years'  war." 

"  What  war  was  that  ?  " 

"  0  we'll  read  about  it,  Queen  Esther.  '  Ad 
usum,' '  Belga3,  Austria.'  These  coins  are  delightful. 
See  here — don't  you  want  to  go  for  a  walk  ?  " 

"  0  yes  !  I've  had  one  walk  to-day  already,  and 
it  just  makes  me  want  another.  Did  you  see  my 
flowers  ?  " 

She  jumped  up  and  brought  them  to  him. 

"  Here's  the  liverleaf,  and  anemone,  and  blood- 
root;  and  we  couldn't  find  the  columbine,  but  it 
must  be  out.  Christopher  calls  them  all  sorts  of 
hard  names,  that  I  can't  rernember." 

"  Anemone  is  anemone,  at  any  rate.  These  two, 
Esther,  this  and  the  Hepatica,  belong  to  one  great 
family,  the  family  of  the  Crowfoots — Ranunculacese." 

"  0  but  that  is  harder  and  harder !  " 


THE  Box  OF  COINS.  39 

"  No  it  isn't ;  it  is  easier  and  easier.  See, — these 
belong  to  one  family ;  so  you  learn  to  know  them 
as  relations;  and  then  you  can  remember  them." 

"  How  do  you  know  they  are  of  the  same 
family?" 

"  Well,  they  have  the  family  features.  They  all 
have  an  acrid  sap  or  juice,  exogenous  plants,  with 
many  stamens, — these  are  the  stamens,  do  you 
know? — they  have  calyx  and  corolla  both,  and 
the  corolla  has  separate  petals,  see?  and  the  Ra- 
nunculaceae  have  the  petals  and  sepals  deciduous ; 
and  the  leaves  generally  cut,  as  you  see  these  are. 
They  are  what  you  may  call  a  bitter  family ;  it  runs 
in  the  blood,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  juice  of  them ;  and 
a  good  many  of  the  members  of  the  family  are 
downright  wicked;  that  is,  poisonous." 

"Pitt,  you  talk  very  queerly  !  " 

"  Not  a  bit  more  queer  than  the  things  are  I  am 
talking  of.  Now  this  Sanguinaria  belongs  to  the 
Papaveraceae — the  poppy  family." 

"  Does  it !  But  it  does  not  look  like  them,  like 
poppies." 

"This  coloured  juice  that  you  see  when  you 
break  the  stem,  is  one  of  the  family  marks  of  this 
family.  I  won't  trouble  you  with  the  others.  But 
you  must  learn  to  know  them,  Queen  Esther.  King 
Solomon  knew  every  plant  from  the  royal  cedar  to 
the  hyssop  on  the  wail;  and  I  am  sure  a  queen 
ought  to  know  as  much.  Now  the  blood  of  the 
Papaveraceoe  has  a  taint  also;  it  is  apt  to  have 
a  narcotic  quality." 


40  A  RED  WALLFLOWER 

"What  is  narcotic?" 

"  Putting  to  sleep." 

"That's  a  good  quality." 

"  Hm  !  "  said  Dallas,—"  that's  as  you  take  it.  It 
isn't  healthy  to  go  so  fast  asleep  that  you  never 
can  wake  up  again." 

"Can  people  do  that?"  asked  Esther  in  aston 
ishment. 

"  Yes.  Did  you  never  hear  of  people  killing 
themselves  with  laudanum,  or  opium  ?  " 

"  I  wonder  why  the  poppy  family  was  made  so?" 

"Why  not?" 

"  So  mischievous." 

"That's  when  people  take  too  much  of  them. 
They  are  very  good  for  medicine  sometimes,  Queen 
Esther." 

The  girl's  appearance  by  this  time  had  totally 
changed.  All  the  dull,  weary,  depressed  air  and 
expression  were  gone;  she  was  alert  and  erect,  the 
beautiful  eyes  filled  with  life  and  eagerness,  a 
dawning  of  colour  in  the  cheeks,  the  brow  busy 
with  stirring  thoughts.  Esther's  face  was  a  grave 
face  still,  for  a  child  of  her  years;  but  now  it  was 
a  noble  gravity,  shewing  intelligence  and  power 
and  purpose;  indicating  capacity,  and  also  an  eager 
sympathy  with  whatever  is  great  and  worthy  to  take 
and  hold  the  attention.  Whether  it  were  history 
that  Dallas  touched  upon,  or  natural  science;  the 
divisions  of  nations  or  the  harmonies  of  plants; 
Esther  was  ready,  with  her  thoughtful,  intent  eyes, 
taking  in  all  he  could  give  her;  and  not  merely  as 


THE  Box  OF  COINS.  41 

a  snatch-bite  of  curiosity,  but  as  the  satisfaction  of 
a  good  healthy  mental  appetite  for  mental  food. 

Until  to-day  the  young  man  had  never  con 
cerned  himself  much  about  Esther.  Good  nature 
had  moved  him  to-day,  when  he  saw  the  dullness 
that  had  come  over  the  child  and  recognized  her 
forlorn  solitude ;  and  now  he  began  to  be  interested 
in  the  development  of  a  nature  he  had  never  known 
before.  Young  Dallas  was  a  student  of  everything 
natural  that  came  in  his  way,  but  this  was  the  first 
bit  of  human  nature  that  had  consciously  interested 
him.  He  thought  it  quite  worth  investigating  a 
little  more. 


CHAPTER   IV. 
LEAKNINGL 

THEY  had  a  most  delightful  walk.  It  was  not 
quite  the  first  they  had  taken  together;  how 
ever,  they  had  had  none  like  this.  They  roved 
through  the  meadows  and  over  the  low  rocky 
heights  and  among  the  copsewood,  searching  ev 
erywhere  for  flowers;  and  finding  a  good  variety  of 
the  dainty  and  delicate  spring  beauties.  Colum 
bine,  most  elegant,  stood  in  groups  upon  the  rocks; 
Hepatica  hid  under  beds  of  dead  leaves;  the  slen 
der  Uvularia  was  met  with  here  and  there;  ane 
mone  and  bloodroot  and  wild  geranium,  and  many 
another.  And  as  they  were  gathered,  Dallas  made 
Esther  observe  their  various  features  and  family 
characteristics,  and  brought  her  away  from  Chris 
topher's  technical  phraseology  to  introduce  her  in 
stead  to  the  living  and  everlasting  relations  of 
things.  To  this  teaching  the  little  girl  presently 
lent  a  very  delighted  ear,  and  brought,  he  could 
see,  a  quick  wit  and  a  keen  power  of  discrimina 
tion.  It  was  one  thing  to  call  a  delicate  little 

plant   arbitrarily   Sanguinaria   canadensis-,    it   was 
(42) 


LEARNING.  43 

another  thing  to  find  it  its  place  among  the  floral 
tribes  and  recognize  its  kindred  and  associations 
and  family  character. 

On  their  way  home,  Dallas  proposed  that  Esther 
should  stop  at  his  house  for  a  minute,  and  become 
a  little  familiar  with  the  place  where  she  was  to 
come  to  study  Latin;  and  he  led  her  in  as  he 
spoke. 

The  Dallas's  house  was  the  best  in  the  village. 
Not  handsome  in  its  exterior,  which  bore  the  same 
plain  and  somewhat  clumsy  character  as  all  the 
other  buildings  in  its  neighbourhood;  but  inside  it 
was  spacious  and  had  a  certain  homely  elegance. 
Rooms  were  large  and  exceedingly  comfortable, 
and  furnished  evidently  with  everything  desired 
by  the  hearts  of  its  possessors.  That  fact  has  per 
haps  more  to  do  with  the  pleasant,  liveable,  air  of  a 
house  than  aesthetic  tastes  or  artistic  combinations 
apart  from  it.  There  was  a  roomy  verandah,  with 
settees  and  cane  chairs,  and  roses  climbing  up  the 
pillars  and  draping  the  balustrade.  The  hall, 
which  was  entered  next,  was  wide  and  homelike, 
furnished  with  settees  also,  and  one  or  two  tables, 
for  summer  occupation,  when  doors  could  be  set 
open  front  and  back  and  the  wind  play  through. 
Nobody  was  there  to-day,  and  Dallas  turned  to  a 
door  at  the  right  and  opened  it.  This  let  them 
into  a  large  room  where  a  fire  was  burning,  and  a 
soft  genial  warmth  met  them,  along  with  a  certain 
odour,  which  Esther  noticed  and  felt  without  know 
ing  what  it  was.  It  was  very  faint,  yet  unmistake- 


44  A  RED   WALLFLOWER. 

able;  and  was  a  compound  probably  made  up  from 
the  old  wood  of  the  house,  burning  coals  in  the  chim 
ney,  great  cleanliness,  and  a  distant,  hidden,  secret 
store  of  all  manner  of  delicate  good  things,  fruits 
arid  sweets  and  spices,  of  which  Mrs.  Dallas's  store 
closet  held  undoubtedly  a  great  stock  and  variety. 
The  brass  of  the  old-fashioned  grate  glittered  in  the 
sunlight,  it  was  so  beautifully  kept;  between  the 
windows  hung  a  circular  mirror,  to  the  frame  of 
which  were  appended  a  number  of  spiral,  slim, 
curling  branches,  like  vine  tendrils,  each  sustaining 
a  socket  for  a  candle.  The  rest  of  the  furniture 
was  good;  dark  and  old  and  comfortable;  painted 
vases  were  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  an  old  portrait 
hung  over  it.  The  place  made  a  peculiar,  agreeable 
impression  upon  any  one  entering  it;  ease  and  com 
fort  and  good  living  were  so  at  home  in  it  and  so 
invited  one  to  take  part  in  its  advantages.  Esther 
had  hardly  been  in  the  house  since  the  death  of  her 
mother,  and  it  struck  her  almost  as  a  stranger.  So 
did  the  lady  sitting  there,  in  state,  as  it  seemed  to 
the  girl. 

For  Mrs.  Dallas  was  a  stately  person.  Handsome, 
•tall,  of  somewhat  large  and  full  figure  and  very 
upright  carriage,  handsomely  dressed;  and  witli  a 
calm,  superior  air  of  confidence,  which  perhaps  had 
more  effect  than  all  the  other  good  properties  men 
tioned.  She  was  sitting  in  an  easy  chair,  with  some 
work  in  her  hands,  by  a  little  work  table  on  which 
lay  one  or  two  handsomely  bound  books.  She  looked 
up  and  reviewed  Esther  as  her  son  and  she  came  in. 


LEARNING.  45 

"I  have  brought  Esther  Gainsborough,  mother; 
you  know  her,  don't  you?" 

"  I  know  her,  certainly," — Mrs.  Dallas  answered, 
holding  out  her  hand  to  the  child,  who  touched  it 
as  somewhat  embodying  a  condescension  rather 
than  a  kindness.  "  How  is  your  father,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  He  does  not  feel  very  well,"  said  Esther;  "  but 
he  never  does." 

"Pity!  "—said  the  lady;  but  Esther  could  not 
tell  what  she  meant.  It  was  a  pity,  of  course,  that 
her  father  did  not  feel  well.  "  Where  have  you 
been  all  this  while  ?  "  the  lady  went  on,  addressing 
her  son. 

"Where? — well,  in  reality,  walking  over  half  the 
country.  See  our  flowers!  In  imagination,  over 
half  the  world.  Do  you  know  what  a  collection 
of  coins  Col.  Gainsborough  has  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  lady  coldly. 

"  He  has  a  very  fine  collection." 

"  I  see  no  good  in  coin  that  are  not  current." 

"  Difference  of  opinion,  you  see,  there,  mother. 
An  old  piece,  which  when  it  was  current  was  worth 
only  perhaps  a  farthing  or  two,  now  when  its  cur 
rency  is  long  past  would  sell  maybe  for  fifty  or  a 
hundred  pounds." 

"  That  is  very  absurd,  Pitt !  " 

"Not  altogether." 

11  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Those  old  coins  are  history." 

"  You  don't  want  them  for  history.  You  have 
the  history  in  books." 


46  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Pitt  laughed. 

"  Come  away,  Esther,"  he  said.  "  Come  and  let 
me  shew  you  where  you  are  to  find  me  when  you 
want  me." 

"Find  you  for  what?"  asked  the  lady,  before 
they  could  quit  the  room. 

"  Esther  is  coming  to  take  lessons  from  me,"  he 
said  throwing  his  head  back  laughingly  as  he  went. 

"  Lessons !     In  what  ?  " 

"Anything  she  wants  to  learn,  that  I  can  teach 
her.  We  have  been  studying  history  and  botany 
to-day.  Come  along,  Esther.  We  shall  not  take 
our  lessons  here" 

He  led  the  way,  going  out  into  the  hall  and  at 
the  further  end  of  it  passing  into  a  verandah  which 
there  too  extended  along  the  back  of  the  house. 
The  house  on  this  side  had  a  long  offset,  or  wing, 
running  back  at  right  angles  with  the  main  build 
ing.  The  verandah  also  made  an  angle  and  followed 
the  side  of  this  wing,  which  on  the  ground  floor 
contained  the  kitchen  and  offices.  Half  way  of  its 
length  a  stairway  ran  up,  on  the  outside,  to  a  door 
nearer  the  end  of  the  building.  Up  this  stair  young 
Dallas  went,  and  introduced  Esther  to  a  large  room, 
which  seemed  to  her  presently  the  oddest  and  also 
the  most  interesting  that  she  had  ever  in  her  life 
seen.  Its  owner  had  got  together,  apparently,  the 
old  bits  of  furniture  that  his  mother  did  not  want 
any  longer;  there  was  an  old  table,  devoid  of  all 
varnish,  in  the  floor,  covered  however  with  a  nice 
green  cloth;  two  or  three  chairs  were  the  table's 


LEARNING.  47 

contemporaries,  to  judge  by  their  style,  and  nothing 
harder  or  less  accommodating  to  the  love  of  ease 
ever  entered  surely  a  cabinet  maker's  brain.  The 
wood  of  which  they  were  made  had  however  come 
to  be  of  a  soft  brown  colour,  through  the  influence 
of  time,  and  the  form  was  not  inelegant.  The  floor 
was  bare  and  painted,  and  upon  it  lay  here  an  old 
rug  and  there  a  great  thick  bearskin ;  and  on  the 
walls  there  were  several  heads  of  animals,  which 
seemed  to  Esther  very  remarkable  and  extremely  or 
namental.  One  beautiful  deer's  head,  with  elegant 
horns ;  and  one  elk  head,  the  horns  of  which  in  their 
sweep  and  extent  were  simply  enormous ;  then  there 
were  one  or  two  fox  heads,  and  a  raccoon ;  and  be 
sides  all  these,  the  room  was  adorned  with  two  or 
three  birds,  very  well  mounted.  The  birds,  as  the 
animals,  were  unknown  to  Esther,  and  fascinated 
her  greatly.  Books  were  in  this  room  too,  though 
not  in  large  numbers;  a  flower  press  was  in  one 
place,  a  microscope  on  the  table,  a  kind  of  etagere 
was  loaded  with  papers ;  and  there  were  boxes,  and 
glasses,  and  cases;  and  a  general  air  of  a  place 
where  a  good  deal  of  business  was  done  and  where 
a  variety  of  tastes  found  at  least  attempted  gratifi 
cation.  It  was  a  pleasant  room,  though  the  de 
scription  may  not  sound  like  it;  the  heterogeneous 
articles  were  in  nice  order;  plenty  of  light  blazed 
in  at  the  windows,  and  the  bearskin  on  the  floor 
looked  eminently  comfortable.  If  that  were  luxuri 
ous,  it  was  the  only  bit  of  luxury  in  the  room. 
"Where  will  you  sit?"  asked  its  owner  looking 


48  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

round.  "There  isn't  anything  nice  enough  for 
you.  I  must  look  up  a  special  chair  for  you  to 
occupy  when  you  come  here.  How  do  you  like 
rny  room  ?  " 

"  I  like  it — very  much,"  said  Esther  slowly,  turn 
ing  her  eyes  from  one  strange  object  to  another. 

*'  Nobody  comes  here  but  me,  so  we  shall  have  no 
interruption  to  fear.  When  you  come  to  see  me, 
Queen  Esther,  you  will  just  go  straight  through  the 
house,  out  on  the  piazza,  and  up  these  stairs,  with 
out  asking  anybody;  and  then  you  will  turn  the 
handle  of  the  door  and  come  in,  without  knocking. 
If  I  am  here,  well  and  good;  if  1  am  not  here, 
wait  for  me.  You  like  my  deer's  horns  ?  I  got 
them  up  in  Canada,  where  I  have  been  on  hunting 
expeditions  with  my  father." 

"  Did  you  kill  them  ?  " 

"Some  of  them.  But  that  great  elk  head  I 
bought." 

"What  big  bird  is  that?" 

"That?  That  is  the  whiteheaded  eagle — the 
American  eagle." 

"  Did  that  come  from  Canada  too  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  shot  him  not  far  from  here,  one  day,  by 
great  luck." 

"Are  they  difficult  to  shoot?" 

"  Rather.  I  sat  half  a  day  in  a  booth  made  with 
branches,  to  get  the  chance.  There  were  several 
of  them  about  that  day,  so  I  lay  in  wait.  They  are 
not  very  plenty  just  about  here.  That  other  fellow 
is  the  great  European  lammergeyer." 


LEARNING.  40 

Esther  had  placed  herself  on  one  of  the  hard 
wooden  chairs,  but  now  she  rose  and  went  nearer 
the  birds,  standing  before  them  in  great  admiration. 
Slowly  then  she  went  from  one  thing  in  the  room 
to  another,  pausing  to  contemplate  each.  A  beauti 
ful  white  owl,  very  large  and  admirably  mounted, 
held  her  eyes  for  some  time. 

"That  is  the  Great  Northern  owl,"  observed  her 
companion.  "They  belong  far  up  in  the  regions 
around  the  north  pole,  and  only  now  and  then  come 
so  far  south  as  this." 

"  What  claws  !  "  said  Esther. 

"  Talons.  Yes,  they  would  carry  off  a  rabbit 
very  easily." 

"  Do  they  !  "  cried  Esther  horrified. 

"I  don't  doubt  that  fellow  has  carried  off  many 
a  one,  as  well  as  hosts  of  smaller  fry — squirrels, 
mice,  and  birds." 

"He  looks  cruel — "  observed  Esther  with  an 
abhorrent  motion  of  her  shoulders. 

"  He  does,  rather.  But  he  is  no  more  cruel  than 
all  the  rest." 

"The  rest  of  what?"  said  Esther,  turning  to 
wards  him. 

"The  rest  of  creation — all  the  carnivorous  por 
tion  of  it,  I  mean." 

"Are  they  all  like  that?  they  don't  look  so. 
The  eyes  of  pigeons,  for  instance,  are  quite  dif 
ferent," 

"Pigeons  are  not  flesh-eaters." 

"Oh! — "   said    Esther  wonderingly.      "No, — I 


50  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

know;  they  eat  bread,  and  grain;  and  canary 
birds  eat  seeds.  Are  there  many  birds  that  live 
on  flesh." 

"  A  great  many,  Queen  Esther.  All  creation, 
pretty  much,  preys  on  some  other  part  of  creation 
— except  that  respectable  number  that  are  graniv- 
orous,  and  herbivorous,  and  graminivorous." 

Esther  stood  before  the  owl,  musing;  and  Dallas, 
who  was  studying  the  child  now,  watched  her. 

"But  what  I  want  to  know,  is,"  began  Esther, 
as  if  she  were  carrying  on  an  argument, — "ivliy 
those  that  eat  flesh  look  so  much  more  wicked 
than  the  others  that  eat  other  things  ?  " 

"Do  they?"  said  Dallas.  "That  is  the  first 
question." 

«  Why  yes,"  said  Esther,  "  they  do,  Pitt.  If  you 
will  think.  There  are  sheep  and  cows  and  rabbits, 
and  doves  and  chickens — 

"  Halt  there !  "  cried  Dallas.  "  Chickens  are  as 
good  flesh  eaters  as  anybody,  and  as  cruel  about  it, 
too.  See  two  chickens  pulling  at  the  two  ends  of 
one  earthworm." 

"0  don't!" — said  Esther.  "I  remember  they 
do;  and  they  haven't  nice  eyes,  either,  Pitt.  But 
little  turkeys  have." 

Dallas  burst  out  laughing. 

"Well,  just  think,"  Esther  persisted.  "Think 
of  horses'  beautiful  eyes;  and  then  think  of  a 
tiger." 

"  Or  a  cat,"  said  Dallas. 

"  But  why  is  it,  Pitt  ?  " 


LEARNING.  51 

"  Queen  Esther,  my  knowledge,  such  as  it  is,  is 
all  at  your  majesty's  service ;  but  the  information 
required  lies  not  therein." 

"  Well,  isn't  it  true,  what  I  said  ?  " 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think,  and  will  frankly  admit, 
that  there  is  something  in  it." 

"  Then  don't  you  think  there  must  be  a  real  dif 
ference,  to  make  them  look  so  different?  and  that 
I  wasn't  wrong  when  I  called  the  owl  cruel  ?  " 

"The  study  of  animal  psychology,  so  far  as  I 
know,  has  never  been  carried  into  a  system.  Mean 
while,  suppose  we  come  from  what  I  cannot  teach, 
to  what  I  can  ?  Here's  a  Latin  grammar  for  you." 

Esther  came  to  his  side  immediately  and  listened 
with  grave  attention  to  his  explanations  and  direc 
tions. 

"  And  you  want  me  to  learn  these  declensions  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  necessary  preliminary  to  learning  Latin." 

Esther  took  the  book  with  a  very  awakened  and 
contented  face;  then  put  a  sudden  irrelevant  ques 
tion.  "  Pitt,  why  didn't  you  tell  Mrs.  Dallas  what 
you  were  going  to  teach  me  ?" 

The  young  man  looked  at  her,  somewhat  amused, 
but  not  immediately  ready  with  an  answer. 

"  Wouldn't  she  like  you  to  give  me  lessons  ?  " 

"  I  never  asked  her,"  he  answered  gravely. 

Esther  looked  at  him,  inquiring  and  uncertain. 

tk  I  never  asked  her  whether  I  might  take  lessons 
from  your  father,  either." 

"  No,  of  course  not ;  but — " 

"  But  what  ?  " 


52  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"I  don't  know.  I  don't  want  to  do  it  if  she  would 
not  like  it." 

"  Why  shouldn't  she  like  it  ?  She  has  nothing 
to  do  with  it.  It  is  I  who  am  going  to  give  you 
the  lessons,  not  she.  And  now  for  a  lesson  in 
botany." — 

He  brought  out  a  quantity  of  his  dried  flowers, 
beautifully  preserved  and  arranged;  and  shewed 
Esther  one  or  two  groups  of  plants,  giving  her 
various  initiatory  instruction  by  the  way.  It  was 
a  most  delightful  half  hour  to  the  little  girl;  and 
she  went  home  after  it,  with  her  Latin  grammar 
in  her  hands,  very  much  aroused  and  wakened  up 
and  cheered  from  her  dull  condition  of  despond 
ency;  just  what  Pitt  had  intended. 


CHAPTER  V. 
CONTAMINATION. 

THE  lessons  went  on,  and  the  interest  on  both 
sides  knew  no  flagging.  Dallas  had  begun 
by  way  of  experiment,  and  he  was  quite  contented 
with  his  success.  In  his  room  over  Latin  and 
botany,  at  her  own  home  over  history  and  the 
boxes  of  coins,  he  and  Esther  daily  spent  a  good 
deal  of  time  together.  They  were  pleasant  enough 
hours  to  him ;  but  to  her  they  were  sources  of  life- 
giving  nourishment  and  delight.  The  girl  had 
been  leading  a  forlorn  existence;  mentally  in  a 
desert  and  alone;  and  added  to  that,  with  an  unap- 
peased  longing  for  her  departed  mother,  and  silent, 
quiet,  wearing  grief  for  the  loss  of  her.  Even  now, 
her  features  often  settled  into  the  dulness  which 
had  so  struck  Dallas;  but  gradually  there  was  a 
lightening  and  lifting  of  the  cloud ;  when  studying 
she  was  wholly  intent  on  her  business,  and  when 
talking  or  reciting  or  examining  flowers  there  was 
a  play  of  life  and  thought  and  feeling  in  her  face 
which  was  a  constant  study  to  her  young  teacher, 

as  well  as  pleasure,  for  the  change  was  his  work; 

(53) 


54  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

He  read  indications  of  strong  capacity;  he  saw  the 
tokens  of  rare  sensitiveness  and  delicacy;  he  saw 
there  was  a  power  of  feeling  as  well  as  a  capacity 
for  suffering  covered  by  the  quiet  composure  and 
reserve  of  manner  and  habit,  which,  he  knew,  were 
rather  signs  of  the  depth  of  that  which  they  covered. 
Esther  interested  him.  And  then,  she  was  so 
simply  upright  and  honest,  and  so  noble  in  all  her 
thoughts,  so  high-bred  by  nature  as  well  as  educa 
tion,  that  her  young  teacher's  estimation  constantly 
grew,  and  to  interest  was  soon  added  liking.  He 
had  half  expected  that  when  the  novelty  was  off 
the  pleasure  of  study  would  be  found  to  falter;  but 
it  was  no  such  matter.  Esther  studied  as  honestly 
as  if  she  had  been  a  fifth  form  boy  at  a  good  school ; 
with  a  delight  in  it  which  boys  at  school,  in  any 
form,  rarely  bring  to  their  work.  She  studied  ab- 
sorbedly,  eagerly,  persistently;  whatever  pleasure 
she  might  get  by  the  way,  she  was  plainly  bent  on 
learning ;  and  she  learned  of  course  fast.  And  in  the 
botanical  studies  they  carried  on  together  and  in  the 
historical  studies  which  had  the  coins  for  an  illum 
ination,  the  child  showed  as  keen  enjoyment  as 
other  girls  of  her  age  are  wont  to  feel  in  a  story 
book  or  in  games  and  plays.  Of  games  and  plays 
Esther  knew  nothing;  she  had  no  young  compan 
ions,  and  never  had  known  any;  her  intercourse 
had  been  almost  solely  with  father  and  mother,  and 
now  only  the  father  was  left  to  her.  She  would 
have  been  in  danger  of  growing  morbid  in  her  sorrow 
and  loneliness,  and  her  whole  nature  might  have 


CONTAMINATION.  55 

been  permanently  and  without  remedy  dwarfed,  if  at 
this  time  of  her  life  she  had  been  left  to  grow  like 
the  wild  things  in  the  woods,  without  sympathy 
or  care.  For  some  human  plants  need  a  good 
deal  of  both  to  develop  them  to  their  full  richness 
and  fragrance;  and  Esther  was  one  of  these.  The 
loss  of  her  mother  had  threatened  to  be  an  irrepar 
able  injury  to  her.  Col.  Gainsborough  was  a  ten 
derly  affectionate  father;  still,  like  a  good  many 
men,  he  did  not  understand  child  nature,  could  not 
adapt  himself  to  it,  had  no  sort  of  notion  of  its 
wants,  and  no  comprehension  that  it  either  needed 
or  could  receive  and  return  his  sympathy.  So  he 
did  not  give  sympathy  to  his  child,  nor  dreamed 
that  she  was  in  danger  of  starving  for  want  of  it. 
Indeed  he  had  never  in  his  life  given  much  sympathy 
to  anybody,  except  his  wife;  and  in  the  loss  of  his 
wife  Col.  Gainsborough  thought  so  much  of  himself 
was  lost  that  the  remainder  probably  would  not 
last  long.  He  thought  himself  wounded  to  death. 
That  it  might  be  desirable  and  that  it  might  be 
duty  to  live  for  his  daughter's  sake,  was  an  idea 
that  had  never  entered  his  very  masculine  heart. 
Yet  Col.  Gainsborough  was  a  good  man,  and  even 
had  the  power  of  being  a  tender  one;  he  had  been 
that  towards  his  wife;  but  when  she  died  he  felt 
that  life  had  gone  from  him. 

All  this,  more  or  less,  young  Dallas  came  to  dis 
cern  and  understand  in  the  course  of  his  associa 
tions  with  the  father  and  daughter.  And  now  it 
was  with  a  little  pardonable  pride  and  a  good  deal 


56  A  RED  WALLFLOWER.  . 

of  growing  tenderness  for  the  child,  that  he  saw 
the  change  going  on  in  Esther.  She  was  always, 
now  as  before,  quiet  as  a  mouse  in  her  father's 
presence;  truly  she  was  quiet  as  a  monse  every 
where;  but  under  the  outward  quiet  Dallas  could 
see  now  the  impulse  and  throb  of  the  strong  and 
sensitive  life  within ;  the  stir  of  interest  and  pur 
pose  and  hope;  the  waking  up  of  the  whole  na 
ture;  and  he  saw  that  it  was  a  nature  of  great 
power  and  beauty.  It  was  no  wonder  that  the  face 
through  which  this  nature  shone  was  one  of  rare 
power  and  beauty  too.  Others  could  see  that;  be 
sides  him. 

"What  a  handsome  little  girl  that  is,"  re 
marked  the  elder  Dallas  one  evening.  Esther 
had  just  left  the  house,  and  his  son  come  into 
the  room. 

"  It  seems  to  me  she  is  here  a  great  deal," 
Mrs.  Dallas  said,  after  a  pause.  The  remark  about 
Esther's  good  looks  called  forth  no  response.  "  I 
see  her  coming  and  going  pretty  nearly  every 
day." 

"  Quite  every  day,"  her  son  answered. 

"  And  you  go  there  every  day  !  " 

"I  do.     About  that." 

"  Very  warm  intercourse  !  " 

"I  don't  know;  not  necessarily,"  said  young 
Dallas.  "  The  classics  are  rather  cool — and  Numis 
matics  refreshing  and  composing." 

"  Numismatics  !  You  are  not  teaching  that  child 
Numismatics,  I  suppose  ?  " 


CONTAMINATION.  57 

"  She  is  teaching  me." 

Mrs.  Dallas  was  silent  now,  with  a  dissatisfied 
expression.  Her  husband  repeated  his  former 
remark. 

"  She's  a  handsome  little  maid.  Are  you  teach 
ing  her,  Pitt?" 

"A  little,  sir." 

"  What,  pray?  if  I  may  ask." 

"Teaching  her  to  support  existence.  It  about 
comes  to  that." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  I  confess.  You  are 
oracular." 

"I  did  not  understand  her,  until  lately.  It  is 
what  nobody  else  does,  by  the  way." 

"  Why  should  not  anybody  else  understand  her  ?  " 
Mrs.  Dallas  asked. 

"Should, — but  they  do  not.  That's  a  common 
case,  you  know,  mother." 

•'She  has  her  father;  what's  the  matter  with 
him  ?  " 

"  He  thinks  a  good  deal  is  the  matter  with  him." 

"  Kegularly  hipped,"  said  the  elder  Dallas.  "  He 
has  never  held  up  his  head  since  his  wife  died. 
He  fancies  he  is  going  after  her  as  fast  as  he 
can  go.  Perhaps  he  is;  such  fancies  are  often 
fatal." 

"It  would  do  him  good  to  look  after  his  child," 
Mrs.  Dallas  said.  ' 

"  I  wish  you  would  put  that  in  his  head,  mother." 

"  Does  he  not  look  after  her  ?  " 

"  In  a  sort  of  way.     He  knows  where  she  is  and 


58  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

where  she  goes;  he  has  a  sort  of  outward  care  of 
her,  and  so  far  it  is  very  particular  care;  but  there 
it  stops." 

"  She  ought  to  be  sent  to  school." 

"There  is  no  school  here  fit  for  her." 

"  Then  she  should  be  sent  away,  where  there  is 
a  school  fit  for  her." 

"  Tell  the  colonel  so." 

"  I  shall  not  meddle  in  Col.  Gainsborough's  affairs," 
said  Mrs.  Dallas  bridling  a  little;  "he  is  able  to 
manage  them  himself;  or  he  thinks  he  is,  which 
comes  to  the  same  thing.  But  I  should  say,  that 
child  might  better  be  in  any  other  hands  than  his." 

"Well,  she  is  not  shut  up  to  them,"  said  young 
Dallas;  "since  I  have  taken  her  in  hand." 

He  strolled  out  of  the  room  as  he  spoke,  and 
the  two  elder  people  were  left  together.  Silence 
reigned  between  them  till  the  sound  of  his  steps 
had  quite  ceased  to  be  heard. 

Mrs.  Dallas  was  working  at  some  wool  embroid 
ery,  and  taking  her  stitches  with  a  thoughtful 
brow ;  her  husband  in  his  easy  chair  was  carelessly 
turning  over  the  pages  of  a  newspaper.  They 
were  a  contrast.  She  had  a  tall,  commanding  fig 
ure,  a  gracious  but  dignified  manner,  and  a  very 
handsome,  stately  face.  There  was  nothing  com 
manding,  and  nothing  gracious,  about  Mr.  Dallas. 
His  figure  was  rather  small,  .and  his  manner  insig 
nificant.  He  was  not  a  handsome  man,  either, 
although  he  may  be  said  to  have  but  just  missed 
it,  for  his  features  were  certainly  good ;  but  he  did 


CONTAMINATION.  59 

miss  it.  Nobody  spoke  in  praise  of  Mr.  Dallas's 
appearance.  Yet  his  face  shewed  sense;  his  eyes 
were  shrewd,  if  they  were  also  cold;  and  the 
mouth  was  good;  but  the  man's  whole  air  was 
unsympathetic.  It  was  courteous  enough ;  and  he 
was  careful  and  particular  in  his  dress.  Indeed 
Mr.  Dallas  was  careful  of  all  that  belonged  to 
him.  He  wore  long  English  whiskers  of  sandy 
hair;  the  head  crop  being  very  thin  and  kept 
very  close. 

"  Hildebrand,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas  when  the  sound 
of  her  son's  footsteps  had  died  away,  "when  are 
you  going  to  send  Pitt  to  college?  " 

Mr.  Dallas  turned  another  page  of  his  newspa 
per,  and  did  not  hurry  his  answer. 

"Why?" 

"And  ivhere  are  you  going  to  send  him ? " 

"Really,"  said  Mr.  Dallas,  without  ceasing  his 
contemplation  of  the  page  before  him, — "  I  do  not 
know.  I  have  not  considered  the  matter  lately." 

"Do  you  remember  he  is  eighteen?" 

"I  thought  you  were  not  ready  to  let  him  go 
yet  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dalla's  stopped  her  embroidery  and  sighed. 

"But  he  must  go,  husband." 

Mr.  Dallas  made  no  answer.  He  seemed  not  to 
find  the  question  pressing.  Mrs.  Dallas  sat  look 
ing  at  him  now,  neglecting  her  work. 

"  You  have  got  to  make  up  your  mind  to  it,  and 
so  have  I,"  she  went  on  presently.  "  He  is  ready 
for  college.  All  this  pottering  over  the  classics  with 


60  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Col.  Gainsborough  don't  amount  to  anything.  It 
keeps  him  out  of  idleness — if  Pitt  ever  could  be 
idle — but  he  has  got  to  go  to  college  after  all, 
sooner  or  later.  He  must  go  !  "  she  repeated  with 
another  sigh. 

*'  No  special  hurry,  that  I  see." 

"What's  gained  by  delay?  He's  eighteen.  That's 
long  enough  for  him  to  have  lived  in  a  place  like  this. 
If  I  had  my  way,  Hildebrand,  I  should  send  him 
to  England." 

"  England  !  " — Mr.  Dallas  put  down  his  paper 
now  arid  looked  at  his  wife.  What  had  got  into 
her  head  ? 

"  Oxford  is  better  than  the  things  they  call  col 
leges  in  this  country." 

"Yes;  but  it  is  further  off." 

"That's  not  a  bad  thing,  in  some  respects.  Hil 
debrand,  you  don't  want  Pitt  to  be  formed  upon 
the  model  of  things  in  this  country.  You  would 
not  have  him  get  radical  ideas,  or  Puritanical." 

"  Not  much  danger  !  " 

"I  don't  know." 

"Who's  to  put  them  in  his  head?  Gainsborough 
is  not  a  bit  of  a  radical." 

"He  is  not  one  of  us,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas.  "And 
Pitt  is  very  independent  and  takes  his  own  views, 
from  nobody  or  from  anybody.  See  his  educating 
this  girl,  now !  " 

"  Educating  her  !  " 

"  Yes,  he  is  with  her  and  her  father  a  great  piece 
of  every  day ;  reading  and  talking  and  walking  and 


CONTAMINATION.  61 

drying  flowers  and  giving  lessons.  I  don't  know 
what  all  they  are  doing.  But  in  my  opinion  Pitt 
might  be  better  employed." 

"That  won't  last,"  said  the  father  with  a  half 
laugh. 

"  What  ought  not  to  last,  had  better  not  be  be 
gun,"  Mrs.  Dallas  said  sententiously. 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of,  wife  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  of  Pitt's  wasting  his  time." 

"You  have  never  been  willing  to  have  him  go, 
until  now.  I  thought  you  stood  in  the  way." 

"  He  was  not  wasting  his  time,  until  lately.  He 
was  as  well  at  home.  But  there  must  come  an  end 
to  that,"  the  mother  said  with  another  slight  sigh. 
She  was  not  a  woman  given  to  sighing;  it  meant 
much  from  her. 

"But  England  ?  "—said  Mr.  Dallas.  "What's 
your  notion  about  England  ?  Oxford  is  very  well, 
but  the  ocean  lies  between." 

"  Where  would  you  send  him  ?  " 

"I'd  send  him  to  the  best  there  is  on  this  side." 

"  That's  not  Oxford.  I  believe  it  would  be  good 
for  him  to  be  out  of  this  country  for  awhile ;  forget 
some  of  his  American  notions  and  get  right  English 
ones.  Pitt  is  a  little  too  independent." 

The  elder  Dallas  caressed  his  whiskers  and  pon 
dered.  If  the  truth  were  told,  he  had  been  about 
as  unwilling  to  let  his  son  go  away  from  home  as 
ever  his  mother  could  be.  Pitt  was  simply  the  de 
light  and  pride  of  both  theirvhearts;  the  one  thing 


62  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

they  lived  for;  the  centre  of  all  hopes,  and  the  end 
of  all  undertakings.  No  doubt  he  must  go  to  col 
lege  ;  but  the  evil  day  had  been  pushed  far  off,  as 
far  as  possible.  Pitt  was  a  son  for  parents  to  be 
proud  of.  He  had  the  good  qualities  of  both  fa 
ther  and  mother,  with  some  added  of  his  own 
which  they  did  not  share,  and  which  perhaps 
therefore  increased  their  interest  in  him. 

"  I  expect  he  will  have  a  word  to  say  about  the 
matter  himself,"  the  father  remarked.  "  0  well ! — 
there's  no  raging  hurry,  wife." 

"  Husband,  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  him  to 
see  the  English  church  as  it  is  in  England,  before 
he  gets  much  older." 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"  He  would  learn  to  value  it.  The  cathedrals, 
and  the  noble  services  in  them,  and  the  bishops; 
and  the  feeling  that  everybody  around  him  goes 
the  same  way; — there's  a  great  deal  of  power  in 
that.  Pitt  would  be  impressed  by  it." 

"  By  the  feeling  that  everybody  around  him  goes 
that  way  ?  Not  he.  That's  quite  as  likely  to  stir 
him  up  to  go  another  way." 

"It  don't  work  so,  Hildebrand." 

"You  think  he's  a  likely  fellow  to  be  talked  over 
into  anything  ?  " 

"No ;  but  he  would  be  influenced.  Nobody  would 
try  to  talk  him  over,  and  without  knowing  it  he 
would  feel  the  influence.  He  couldn't  help  it. 
All  the  influence  at  Oxford  would  be  the  right 
way." 


CONTAMINATION.  63 

"Afraid  of  the  colonel?  I  don't  think  you  need. 
He  hasn't  spirit  enough  left  in  him  for  proselyting." 

» I  am  not  speaking  of  anybody  in  particular.  I 
am  afraid  of  the  air  here." 

Mr.  Dallas  laughed  a  little,  but  his  face  took  a 
shade  of  gravity  it  had  not  worn.  Must  he  send 
his  son  away?  What  would  the  house  be  with 
out  him  ? 


CHAPTER  VI. 
GOING   TO    COLLEGE. 

WHATEVER  thoughts  were  harboured  in  the 
elder  heads,  nothing  was  spoken  openly 
and  no  steps  were  taken  for  some  time.  All 
through  the  summer  the  pleasant  intercourse  went 
on,  and  the  lessons,  and  the  botanizing,  and  the 
study  of  coins.  And  much  real  work  was  done; 
but  for  Esther  one  invaluable  and  abiding  effect  of 
a  more  general  character  was  gained.  She  was 
lifted  out  of  her  dull  despondency,  which  had 
threatened  to  become  stagnation,  and  restored  to 
her  natural  life  and  energy  and  the  fresh  spring  of 
youthful  spirits.  So  when  her  friend  really  went 
away  to  college  in  the  fall,  Esther  did  not  slip  back 
to  the  condition  from  which  he  had  delivered  her. 
But  the  loss  of  him  was  a  dreadful  loss  to  the 
child,  although  Pitt  was  not  going  over  the  sea, 
and  would  be  home  at  Christmas.  He  tried  to  com 
fort  her  with  this  prospect.  Esther  took  no  comfort. 
She  sat  silent,  tearless,  pale,  in  a  kind  of  despair. 
Pitt  looked  at  her,  half  amused,  half  deeply  con 
cerned. 

(64) 


GOING  TO  COLLEGE.  65 

"  And  you  must  go  on  with  all  your  studies,  Es 
ther,  you  know,"  he  was  saying.  "  I  will  shew  you 
what  to  do;  and  when  I  come  home  I  shall  go  into 
a  very  searching  examination  to  see  whether  you 
have  done  it  all  thoroughly." 

"  Will  you  ?  "  she  said,  lifting  her  eyes  to  him 
with  a  gleam  of  sudden  hope. 

"  Certainly !  I  shall  give  you  lessons  just  as 
usual  whenever  I  come  home;  indeed  I  expect  I 
shall  do  it  all  your  life.  I  think  I  shall  always  be 
teaching  and  you  always  be  learning.  Don't  you 
think  that  is  how  it  will  be,  Queen  Esther  ?  "  he 
said  kindly. 

"You  cannot  give  me  lessons  when  you  are 
away." 

"  But  when  I  come  back  !  " — 

There  was  a  very  faint  yet  distinct  lightening  of 
the  gloom  in  her  face.  Yet  it  was  plain  Esther  was 
not  cheated  out  of  her  perception  of  the  truth.  She 
was  going  to  lose  her  friend;  and  his  absence  would 
be  very  different  from  his  presence ;  and  the  bits 
of  vacation  time  would  not  help,  or  help  only  by  an 
ticipation,  the  long  stretches  of  months  in  which 
there  would  be  neither  sight  nor  sound  of  him. 
Esther's  looks  had  brightened  for  a  moment,  but 
then  her  countenance  fell  again  and  her  face  grew 
visibly  pale.  Pitt  saw  it  with  dismay. 

"  But  Esther ! "  he  said, — "  this  is  nothing.  Every 
man  must  go  to  college,  you  know,  just  as  he  must 
learn  swimming  and  boating;  and  so  I  must  go; 
but  it  will  not  last  forever." 


66  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  How  long  ?  "  said  she,  lifting  her  eyes  to  him 
again,  heavy  with  their  burden  of  sorrow. 

"  Well,  perhaps  three  years;  unless  I  enter  Junior, 
and  then  it  would  be  only  two.  That  isn't  much." 

"  What  will  you  do  then  ?  " 

"Then?  I  don't  know.  Look  after  you,  at  any 
rate.  Let  us  see.  How  old  will  you  be  in  two 
years  ?  " 

"Almost  fourteen." 

"  Fourteen.  Well,  you  see  you  will  have  a  great 
deal  to  do,  before  you  can  afford  to  be  fourteen  years 
old;  so  much  that  you  will  not  have  time  to  miss 
me." 

Esther  made  no  answer. 

"I'll  be  back  at  Christmas  anyhow,  you  know; 
and  that's  only  three  months  away,  or  a  little  more." 

"For  how  long?" 

"  Never  mind;  we  will  make  a  little  do  the  work 
of  a  great  deal.  It  will  seem  a  long  time,  it  will 
be  so  good." 

"No,"  said  Esther;  "that  will  make  it  only  the 
shorter." 

"  Why  Esther,"  said  he  half  laughing,  "  I  didn't 
know  you  cared  so  much  about  me.  I  don't  deserve 
all  that." 

"  I  am  not  crying,"  said  the  girl,  rising  with  a 
sort  of  childish  dignity;  "but  I  shall  be  alone." 

They  had  been  sitting  on  a  rock,  resting  and 
talking,  and  now  set  out  again  to  go  home.  Esther 
spoke  no  more ;  and  Pitt  was  silent,  not  knowing 
what  to  say;  but  he  watched  her,  and  saw  that  if 


GOING  TO  COLLEGE.  67 

she  had  not  been  crying  at  the  time  she  had  made 
that  declaration,  the  tears  had  taken  their  revenge 
and  were  coming  now.  Yet  only  in  a  calm,  re 
pressed  way;  now  and  then  he  saw  a  drop  fall, 
or  caught  a  motion  of  Esther's  hand  which  could 
only  have  been  made  to  prevent  a  drop  from  fall 
ing.  She  walked  along  steadily,  turning  neither  to 
the  right  hand  or  the  left;  she  who  ordinarily 
watched  every  hedgerow  and  ran  to  explore  every 
group  of  plants  in  the  corner  of  a  field,  and  was 
keen  to  see  everything  that  was  to  be  seen  in 
earth  or  heaven.  Pitt  walked  along  silently  too. 
He  was  at  a  careless  age,  but  he  was  a  generous 
minded  fellow;  and  to  a  mind  of  that  sort  there  is 
something  exceedingly  attractive  and  an  influence 
exceedingly  powerful  in  the  fact  of  being  trusted 
and  depended  on. 

"  Mother,"  he  said  when  he  got  home,  "  I  wish 
you  would  look  after  that  little  girl  now  and  then." 

"  What  little  girl  V  " 

"You  must  know  whom  I  mean;  the  colonel's 
daughter." 

"  The  colonel  is  sufficient  for  that,  I  should  say." 

"  But  you  know  what  sort  of  a  man  he  is.  And 
she  has  no  mother,  nor  anybody  else,  except 
servants." 

"Isn't  he  fond  of  her?" 

"Very  fond;  but  then  he  isn't  well,  and  he  is  a 
reserved,  silent  man;  the  child  is  left  to  herself  in 
a  way  that  is  bad  for  her." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  I  can  do  ?  " 


68  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  A  great  deal ;  if  you  once  knew  her  and  got 
fond  of  her,  mother." 

Mrs.  Dallas  made  no  promise;  however  she  did 
go  to  see  Esther.  It  was  about  a  week  after  Pitt's 
departure.  She  found  father  and  daughter  very 
much  as  her  son  had  found  them  the  day  he  was 
introduced  to  the  box  of  coins.  Esther  was  on  the 
floor,  beside  the  same  box,  and  the  colonel  was  on 
his  sofa.  Mrs.  Dallas  did  take  the  effect  of  the 
picture  for  that  moment  before  the  colonel  sprang 
up  to  receive  her.  Then  she  had  to  do  with  a 
somewhat  formal  but  courtly  host,  and  the  picture 
was  lost.  The  lady  sat  there,  stately  in  her  silks 
and  laces,  carrying  on  a  stiff  conversation ;  for  she 
and  Col.  Gainsborough  had  few  points  of  sympathy 
or  mutual  understanding;  and  for  awhile  she  forgot 
Esther.  Then  her  eye  again  fell  upon  the  child  in 
her  corner,  sitting  by  her  box  with  a  sad,  unin 
terested  air. 

"And  how  is  Esther?"  she  said,  turning  herself 
a  little  towards  that  end  of  the  room.  "  Eeally  I 
came  to  see  Esther,  colonel.  How  does  she  do  ?  " 

"She  is  much  obliged  to  you,  and  quite  well, 
madam,  I  believe." 

"  But  she  must  want  playmates,  colonel.  Why 
don't  you  send  her  to  school  ?  " 

"  I  would,  if  there  were  a  good  school  at  hand." 

"There  are  schools  at  New  Haven,  and  Hartford, 
and  Boston; — plenty  of  schools,  that  would  suit 
you." 

"  Only,  that,  as  you  observe,  they  are  at  New 


GOING  TO  COLLEGE.  69 

Haven,  and  Hartford,  and  Boston;  out  of  my 
reach." 

"  You  couldn't  do  without  her  for  awhile  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  think  it;  nor  she  without  me.  We  are 
all,  each  of  us,  that  the  other  has." 

"  Pitt  used  to  give  you  lessons,  didn't  he?"  the 
lady  went  on,  turning  more  decidedly  to  Esther. 
Esther  rose  and  came  near. 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"What  did  he  teach  you?" 

Now  Esther  felt  no  more  congeniality  than  her 
father  did  with  this  handsome,  stately,  command 
ing  woman.  Yet  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
the  girl  to  say  why  she  had  an  instant  unwilling 
ness  to  answer  this  simple  question.  She  did  not 
answer  it,  except  under  protest. 

"It  began  with  the  coins,"  she  said  vaguely. 
"  He  said  we  would  study  history  with  them." 

"And  did  you?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"How  did  you  manage  it?  or  how  did  he?  he 
has  original  ways  of  doing  things." 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  We  used  to  take  only  one  or  two 
of  the  coins  at  once,  and  then  Pitt  told  me  what  to 
read." 

"  What  did  he  tell  you  to  read  ?  " 

"A  great  many  different  books,  at  different 
times." 

"But  tell  Mrs.  Dallas  what  books,  Esther,"  her 
father  put  in. 

"  There  were  so  many,  papa.     Gibbon's  history, 


70  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

and  Plutarch's  Lives,  and  Rollin, — and  Yertot — 
and  Hume,  and — I  forget  some  of  them." 

"How  much  of  all  these  did  you  really  read, 
Esther  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  ma'am.  I  read  what  he  told 
me." 

The  lady  turned  to  Col.  Gainsborough  with  a  pe 
culiar  smile.  "  Sounds  rather  heterogeneous  ! — " 
she  said. 

It  was  on  Esther's  lips  to  justify  her  teacher,  and 
say  how  far  from  heterogeneous,  how  connected,  and 
how  thorough,  and  how  methodical,  the  reading 
and  the  study  had  been;  and  how  enriched  with 
talk  and  explanations  and  descriptions ,  and  dis 
cussions.  How  delightful  those  conversations  were, 
both  to  herself  and  Pitt;  how  living  the  truth  had 
been  made;  how  had  names  and  facts  taken  on 
them  the  shape  and  colouring  of  nature  and  re 
ality.  It  rushed  back  upon  Esther,  and  her  lips 
opened;  and  then,  an  inexplicable  feeling  of  some 
thing  like  caution  came  down  upon  her,  and  she 
shut  her  lips  again. 

"It  was  harmless  amusement,"  remarked  the 
colonel  carelessly. 

Whether  the  mother  thought  that,  may  be  ques 
tioned.  She  looked  again  at  the  child  standing 
before  her;  a  child  truly,  with  childlike  innocence 
and  ignorance  in  her  large  eyes  and  pure  lips.  But 
the  eyes  were  eyes  of  beauty;  and  the  lips  would 
soon  and  readily  take  to  themselves  the  sweetness 
and  the  consciousness  of  womanhood,  and  a  new 


GOING  TO  COLLEGE.  71 

bloom  would  come  upon  the  cheek.  The  colonel 
had  never  yet  looked  forward  to  all  that;  but  the 
wise  eyes  of  the  matron  saw  it  as  well  as  if  already 
before  her.  This  little  girl  might  well  by  and  by 
be  dangerous.  If  Mrs.  Dallas  had  come  as  a  friend, 
she  went  away,  in  a  sort,  as  an  enemy.  In  so  far 
at  least  as  Esther's  further  and  future  relations  with 
her  son  were  concerned. 

The  colonel  went  back  to  his  sofa.  Esther  sat 
down  again  by  the  coins.  She  was  not  quite  old 
enough  to  reflect  much  upon  the  developments  of 
human  nature  as  they  came  before  her;  but  she 
was  conscious  of  a  disagreeable,  troubled  sensation 
left  by  this  visit  of  Mrs.  Dallas.  It  had  not  been 
pleasant.  It  ought  to  have  been  pleasant;  she 
was  Pitt's  mother;  she  came  on  a  kind  errand;  but 
Esther  felt  at  once  repelled  and  put  at  a  distance. 

The  child  had  not  gone  back  to  the  dull  de 
spondency  of  the  time  before  Pitt  busied  himself 
with  her;  she  was  striving  to  fulfil  all  his  wishes, 
and  working  hard  in  order  to  accomplish  more  than 
he  expected  of  her.  With  the  cherished  secret 
hope  of  doing  this,  Esther  was  driving  at  her  books 
early  and  late.  She  went  from  the  coins  to  the 
histories  Pitt  had  told  her  would  illustrate  them ; 
she  fagged  away  at  the  dry  details  of  her  Latin 
grammar;  she  even  tried  to  push  her  knowledge 
of  plants  and  see  further  into  their  relations  with 
each  other,  though  in  this  department  she  felt  the 
want  of  her  teacher  particularly.  From  day  to  day 
it  was  the  one  pressing  desire  and  purpose  in 


72  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Esther's  mind,  to  do  more  and  if  possible  much 
more  than  Pitt  wanted  her  to  do ;  so  that  she  might 
surprise  him  and  win  his  respect  and  approbation. 
She  thought,  too,  that  she  was  in  a  fair  way  to  do 
this,  for  she  was  gaining  knowledge  fast,  she 
knew;  and  it  was  a  great  help  towards  keeping  up 
spirit  and  hope  and  healthy  action  in  her  mind. 
Nevertheless  she  missed  her  companion  and  friend, 
with  an  intense  longing  want  of  him  which  no 
body  even  guessed.  All  the  more  keen  it  was, 
perhaps,  because  she  could  speak  of  it  to  nobody. 
It  consumed  the  girl  in  secret,  and  was  only  saved 
from  being  disastrous  to  her  by  the  transformation 
of  it  into  working  energy,  which  transformation 
daily  went  on  anew.  It  did  not  help  her  much,  or 
she  thought  so,  to  remember  that  Pitt  was  coming 
home  at  the  end  of  December.  He  would  not  stay ; 
and  Esther  was  one  of  those  thoughtful  natures 
that  look  all  round  a  subject,  arid  are  not  deceived 
by  a  first  fair  show.  He  could  not  stay;  and  what 
would  his  coming  and  the  delight  of  it  do,  after 
all,  but  renew  this  terrible  sense  of  want  and  make 
it  worse  than  ever  ?  When  he  went  away  again,  it 
would  be  for  a  long,  long  time;  an  absence  of 
months;  how  was  it  going  to  be  borne? 

The  problem  of  life  was  beginning  early  for  Es 
ther.  And  the  child  was  alone.  Nobody  knew 
what  went  on  in  her;  she  had  nobody  to  whom  she 
could  open  her  heart  and  tell  her  trouble ;  and  the 
troubles  we  can  tell  to  nobody  else  somehow  weigh 
very  heavy,  especially  in  young  years.  The  colonel 


GOING  TO  COLLEGE.  73 

loved  his  child  with  all  of  his  heart  that  was  not 
buried  in  his  wife's  grave ;  still,  he  was  a  man,  and 
like  most  men  had  little  understanding  of  the 
workings  of  a  child's  mind,  above  all  of  a  girl's, 
He  saw  Esther  pale,  thoughtful,  silent,  grave,  for 
ever  busy  with  her  books;  and  it  never  crossed  his 
thoughts  that  such  is  not  the  natural  condition  and 
wholesome  manner  of  life  for  twelve  years  old.  He 
knew  nothing  for  himself  so  good  as  books;  why 
should  not  the  same  be  true  for  Esther  ?  She  was 
a  studious  child ;  he  was  glad  to  see  her  so  sensible. 
As  for  Pitt,  he  had  fallen  upon  a  new  world,  and 
was  busily  finding  his  feet,  as  it  were.  Finding  his 
own  place,  among  all  these  other  aspirants  for  hu 
man  distinction;  testing  his  own  strength,  among 
the  combatants  in  this  wrestling  school  of  human 
life;  earning  his  laurels  in  the  race  for  learning, 
making  good  his  standing  and  trying  his  power 
amid  the  waves  and  currents  of  human  influence. 
Pitt  found  his  standing  good,  and  his  strength 
quite  equal  to  the  call  for  it,  and  his  power  domi 
nating.  At  least  it  would  have  been  dominating,  if 
he  had  cared  to  rule;  all  he  cared  for,  as  it  hap 
pened,  in  that  line,  was  to  be  independent  and  keep 
his  own  course.  He  had  done  that  always  at  home, 
and  he  found  no  difficulty  in  doing  it  at  college. 
For  the  rest,  his  abilities  were  unquestioned  and 
put  him  at  once  at  the  head  of  his  fellows. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

COMING  HOME. 

WITHOUT  being  at  all  an  unfaithful  friend,  it 
must  be  confessed  Pitt's  mind  during  this 
time  was  full  of  the  things  pertaining  to  his  own 
new  life,  and  he  thought  little  of  Esther.  He 
thought  little  of  anybody;  he  was  not  at  a  senti 
mental  age,  nor  at  all  of  a  sentimental  disposition, 
and  he  had  enough  else  to  occupy  him.  It  was  not 
till  he  had  put  the  college  behind  him  and  was  on 
his  journey  home,  that  Esther's  image  rose  before 
his  mental  vision ;  the  first  time  perhaps  for  months. 
It  smote  him  then  with  a  little  feeling  of  compunc 
tion.  He  recollected  the  child's  sensitive  nature, 
her  clinging  to  him,  her  lonely  condition;  and  the 
grave,  sad  eyes  seemed  to  reproach  him  with  hav 
ing  forgotten  her.  He  had  not  forgotten  her;  he 
had  only  not  remembered.  He  might  have  taken 
time  to  write  her  one  little  letter;  but  he  had  not 
thought  of  it.  Had  she  ceased  to  think  of  him,  in 
any  corresponding  way?  Pitt  was  very  sure  she 
had  not.  Somehow  his  fancy  was  very  busy  with 
Esther  during  this  ride  home.  He  was  making 

(74) 


COMING  HOME.  75 

amends  for  months  of  neglect.  Her  delicate,  ten 
der,  faithful  image  seemed  to  stand  before  him ; 
forgetf ulness  would  never  be  charged  upon  Esther, 
nor  carelessness,  of  anything  she  ought  to  care  for; 
of  that  he  was  sure.  He  was  quite  ashamed  of 
himself,  that  he  had  sent  her  never  a  little  token 
of  remembrance  in  all  this  time.  He  recalled  the 
girl's  eagerness  in  study,  her  delight  in  learning, 
her  modest,  well-bred  manner;  her  evident  though 
unconscious  loving  devotion  to  himself,  and  her 
profound  grief  at  his  going  away.  There  were 
very  noble  qualities  in  that  young  girl,  that  would 
develop  —  into  what  might  they  develop?  and 
how  would  those  beautiful  thoughtful  eyes  look 
from  a  woman's  soul  by  and  by  ?  Had  his  mother 
complied  with  his  request  and  shown  any  kindness 
to  the  child  ?  Pitt  had  no  special  encouragement 
to  think  so.  And  what  a  life  it  must  be  for  such 
a  creature,  at  twelve  years  old,  to  be  alone  with 
that.taciturn,  reserved,  hypochondriac  colonel ! 

It  was  near  evening  when  the  stage  coach  brought 
Pitt  to  his  native  Tillage  and  set  him  down  at 
home.  There  was  no  snow  on  the  ground  yet,  and 
his  steps  rang  on  the  hard  frozen  path,  as  he  went 
up  to  the  door,  giving  clear  intimation  of  his 
approach.  Within  there  was  waiting.  The  mother 
and  father  were  sitting  at  the  two  sides  of  the  fire 
place,  busy  with  keeping  up  the  fire  to  an  unmain 
tainable  standard  of  brilliancy,  and  looking  at  the 
clock;  now  and  then  exchanging  a  remark  about 
the  weather,  the  way,  the  distance,  and  the  proper 


76  A  RED   WALLFLOWER. 

time  of  the  expected  arrival.  Till  that  sharp  sound 
of  a  step  on  the  gravel  came  to  their  ears,  and  both 
parents  started  up  and  rushed  to  the  door.  There 
was  a  general  confusion  of  kisses  and  hand-clasps 
and  embraces,  from  which  Pitt  at  last  emerged. 

"  0  my  boy,  how  late  you  are  !  " 

"  Not  at  all,  mother;  just  right." 

"  A  tedious,  cold  ride,  hadn't  you  ?  " 

"No,  mother,  not  at  all.  Koads  in  capital  order; 
smooth  as  a  plank  floor;  came  along  splendidly; 
but  there'll  be  enow  to-morrow." 

"01  hope  not,  till  you  get  the  greens !  " 

"0  I'll  get  the  greens,  never  fear;  and  put  them 
up  too." 

Wherewith  they  entered  the  brilliantly  lighted 
room,  where  the  supper  table  stood  ready;  and  all 
eyes  could  meet  eyes  and  read  tokens  each  of  the 
other's  condition. 

"  He  looks  well — "  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  regarding 
her  son. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  look  well?" 

"  Hard  work  ? — "  suggested  the  mother. 

"  Work  is  good  for  a  fellow.  I  never  got  hard 
work  enough  yet.  But  home  is  jolly,  mother. 
That's  the  use  of  going  away,  I  suppose,"  said  the 
young  man,  drawing  a  chair  comfortably  in  front 
of  the  fire ;  while  Mrs.  Dallas  rang  for  supper  and 
gave  orders,  and  then  sat  down  to  gaze  at  him 
with  those  mother's  eyes  that  are  like  nothing  else 
in  the  world.  Searching,  fond,  proud,  tender,  de 
voted. — Pitt  met  them  and  smiled. 


COMING  HOME.  77 

"  I  am  all  right,"  he  said. 

"  Looks  so," — said  the  father  contentedly.  "  Hold 
your  own,  Pitt  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Ahead  of  everybody  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  young  man  a  little  more 
reservedly. 

"  I  knew  it ! "  said  the  elder  man  rubbing  his 
hands;  "I  thought  I  knew  it.  I  made  sure  you 
would." 

"He  hasn't  worked  too  hard,  either,"  said  the 
mother  with  a  careful  eye  of  examination.  "  He 
looks  as  he  ought  to  look." 

A  bright  glance  of  the  eye  came  to  her.  "  I  tell 
you,  I  never  had  enough  to  do  yet,"  he  said. 

"And  Pitt,  do  you  like  it?" 

"Like  what,  mother?" 

"  The  place,  and  the  work,  and  the  people ;  the 
students  and  the  professors  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  should  call  a  comprehensive 
question !  You  expect  one  yes  or  no  to  cover 
all  that?" 

"  Well,  how  do  you  like  the  people  ?  " 

"  Mother,  when  you  get  a  community  like  that 
of  a  college  town,  you  have  something  of  a  variety 
of  material,  don't  you  see?  The  people  are  all 
sorts.  But  the  faculty  are  very  well,  and  some  of 
them  capital  fellows." 

"  Have  you  gone  into  society  much  ?  " 

"No,  mother.     Had  something  else  to  do." 

"Time  enough  for  that," — said  the  elder  Dallas 


78  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

contentedly.  "  When  a  man  has  the  money  you'll 
have,  my  boy,  he  may  pretty  much  command 
society." 

"  Some  sorts,"  said  Pitt. 

"All  sorts." 

"  Must  be  a  poor  kind  of  society,  I  should  say, 
that  makes  money  the  first  thing." 

"  It's  the  best  sort  you  can  get  in  this  world," 
said  the  elder  man  chuckling.  "There's  nothing 
but  money  that  will  buy  bread  and  butter;  and 
they  all  want  bread  and  butter.  You'll  find  they 
all  want  bread  and  butter,  whatever  else  they  want, 
— or  have." 

"Of  course,  they  want  it;  but  what  has  that  to 
do  with  society." 

"  You'll  find  out,"  said  the  other,  with  an  unc 
tuous  kind  of  complacency. 

"But  there's  no  society  in  this  country,"  said 
Mrs.  Dallas.  "Now,  Pitt,  turn  your  chair  round — 
here's  the  supper — if  you  want  to  sit  by  the  fire, 
that  is." 

The  supper  was  a  royal  one,  for  Mrs.  Dallas 
was  a  good  housekeeper;  and  the  tone  of  it  was 
festive,  for  the  spirits  of  them  all  were  in  a  very 
gay  and  Christmas  mood.  So  it  was  with  a  good 
deal  of  surprise  as  well  as  chagrin  that  Mrs.  Dallas 
after  supper  saw  her  son  handling  his  great  coat 
in  the  hall. 

"  Pitt ! — you  are  not  going  out  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,  for  a  little  while." 

"  Where  can  you  be  going  ?  " 


COMING   HOME.  79 

"I  want  to  run  over  to  Col.  Gainsborough's  for  a 
minute  or  two/' 

"Col.  Gainsborough!  You  don't  want  to  see 
him  to-night  ?  " 

"Neither  to-night  nor  any  time;  at  least  I  can 
live  without  it;  but  there's  somebody  else  there 
that  would  like  to  see  me.  I'll  be  back  soon, 
mother." 

"  But  Pitt !  that  is  quite  absurd.  That  child  can 
wait  till  morning,  surely ;  and  I  want  you  myself. 
I  think  I  have  a  better  claim." 

"You  have  had  me  a  good  while  already,  and 
shall  have  me  again,"  said  Pitt  laughing.  "  I  am 
just  going  to  steal  a  little  bit  of  the  evening,  mo 
ther.  Be  generous ! " 

And  he  opened  the  hall  door  and  was  off  and 
the  door  closed  behind  him.  Mrs.  Dallas  went 
back  to  the  supper  room  with  a  very  discomfited 
face. 

"  Hildebrand,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  that  made  her 
husband  look  up,  "there  is  no  help  for  it!  We 
shall  have  to  send  him  to  England." 

•'  What  now  ?  " 

"Just  what  I  told  you.  He's  off  to  see  that 
child.  Off  like  the  North  wind ! — and  no  more 
to  be  held." 

"  That's  nothing  new.  He  never  could  be  held. 
Pity  we  didn't  name  him  Boreas." 

"  But  do  you  see  what  he  is  doing  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  He  is  off  to  see  that  child." 


80  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  That  child  to-day,  and  another  to-morrow.  He's 
a  boy  yet." 

"  Hildebrand,  I  tell  you,  there  is  danger." 

"  Danger  of  what  ?  " 

"  Of  what  you  would  not  like." 

"My  dear,  young  men  do  not  fall  dangerously  in 
love  with  children.  And  that  little  girl  is  a  child 
yet." 

"  You  forget  how  soon  she  will  be  not  a  child. 
And  she  is  going  to  be  a  very  remarkable  looking 
girl,  I  can  tell  you.  And  you  must  not  forget 
another  thing,  husband ;  that  Pitt  is  as  persistent 
as  he  is  wilful." 

"  He's  got  a  head,  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Dallas,  strok 
ing  his  whiskers  thoughtfully. 

"  That  won't  save  him.  It  never  saved  anybody. 
Men  with  heads  are  just  as  much  fools,  in  certain 
circumstances,  as  men  without  them." 

"  He  might  fancy  s@rne  other  child  in  England, 
if  we  sent  him  there,  you  know." 

u  Yes,  but  at  least  she  would  be  a  Church  wo 
man,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  with  her  handsome  face  all 
cloudy  and  disturbed. 

Meanwhile  her  son  had  rushed  along  the  village 
street,  or  road  rather,  through  the  cold  and  dark 
ness,  the  quarter  of  a  mile  to  Col.  Gainsborough's 
house.  There  he  was  told  that  the  colonel  had  a 
bad  headache  and  was  already  gone  to  his  room. 

"  Is  Miss  Esther  up  ?  " 

"0  yes,  sir," — said  Mrs.  Barker  doubtfully,  but 
she  did  not  invite  the  visiter  in. 


COMING   HOME.  81 

"  Can  I  see  her  for  a  moment  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  no,orders,  but  I  suppose  you  can  come 
in,  Mr.  Dallas.  It  is  Mr.  Dallas,  aint  it?" 

u  Yes,  it's  I,  Mrs.  Barker,"  said  Pitt  coming  in 
and  beginning  at  once  to  throw  off  his  great  coat. 
"  In  the  usual  room  ?  Is  the  colonel  less  well  than 
common  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  sir,  not  to  call  less  well,  as  I  knows 
on.  It's  the  time  o'  year,  sir,  I  make  bold  to  imag 
ine.  He  has  a  headache  bad,  that  he  has,  and  he's 
gone  off  to  bed ;  but  Miss  Esther's  well — so  as  she 
can  be." 

Pitt  got  out  of  his  great  coat  and  gloves  and 
waited  for  no  more.  He  had  a  certain  vague 
expectation  of  the  delight  his  appearance  would 
give,  and  was  a  little  eager  to  see  it.  So  he  went 
in  with  a  bright  face  to  surprise  Esther. 

The  girl  was  sitting  by  the  table,  reading  a  book 
she  had  laid  close  under  the  lamp;  reading  with 
a  very  grave  face,  Pitt  saw  too,  and  it  a  little 
sobered  the  brightness  of  his  own.  It  was  not  the 
dullness  of  stagnation  or  of  sorrow  this  time;  at 
least  Esther  was  certainly  busily  reading;  but  it 
was  sober,  steady  business,  not  the  absorption  of 
happy  interest  or  excitement.  She  looked  up  care 
lessly  as  the  door  opened,  then  half  incredulously 
as  she  saw  the  entering  figure,  then  she  shut  her 
book  and  rose  to  meet  him.  But  then  she  did  not 
shew  the  lively  pleasure  he  had  expected ;  her  face 
Hushed  a  little,  she  hardly  smiled,  she  met  him  as 
if  he  were  more  or  less  a  stranger;  with  much  more 


82  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

dignity  and  less  eagerness  than  he  was  accustomed 
to  from  her.  Pitt  was  astonished,  and  piqued, — 
and  curious.  However  he  followed  her  lead,  in  a 
measure. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Queen  Esther  ?  "  he  said,  hold 
ing  out  his  hand. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Pitt  ?  "  she  answered,  taking 
it;  but  with  the  oddest  mingling  of  reserve  and 
doubt  in  her  manner;  and  the  great  grave  eyes 
were  lifted  to  his  face  for  a  moment,  with,  it  seemed 
to  him,  something  of  inquiry  or  questioning  in 
them. 

"  Are  you  not  glad  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  Yes — "  she  said  with  another  glance. 

"  Then  why  are  you  not  glad  to  see  me  ?  "  he 
asked  impetuously. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  of  course,"  she  said. 
"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  " 

"  This  won't  do,  you  know,"  said  the  young  man, 
half  vexed  and  half  laughing,  but  wholly  determined 
not  to  be  kept  at  a  distance  in  this  manner.  "  I 
am  not  going  to  sit  down,  if  you  are  going  to  treat 
me  like  that." 

"  Treat  you  how  ?  " 

"  Why,  as  if  I  were  a  stranger,  that  you  didn't 
care  a  pin  about.  What's  the  matter,  Queen  Esther  ?  " 

Esther  was  silent.  Pitt  was  half  indignant;  and 
then  he  caught  the  shimmer  of  something  like 
moisture  in  the  eyes,  which  were  looking  away  from 
him  to  the  fire,  and  his  mood  changed. 

"  What  is  it,  Esther  ?  "  he  said  kindly.     "  Take  a 


COMING  HOME.  83 

seat,  your  majesty,  and  I'll  do  the  same.  I  see 
there  is  some  talking  to  be  done  here." 

He  took  the  girl's  hand  and  put  her  in  her  chair, 
and  himself  drew  up  another  near.  "  Now  what's 
the  matter,  Esther  ?  Have  you  forgotten  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  But  I  thought — perhaps — you 
had  forgotten  me." 

"  What  made  you  think  that?  " 

"You  were  gone  away,"  she  said  hesitating, — 
"  you  were  busy ; — papa  said — " 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  said,  probably  I  would  never  see  you  much 
more." 

But  here  the  tears  came  to  view  undeniably; 
welled  up  and  filled  the  eyes  and  rolled  over.  Es 
ther  brushed  them  hastily  away. 

"  And  I  hadn't  the  decency  to  write  to  you  ?  Had 
that  something  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  I  thought — if  you  had  remembered  me,  you 
would  perhaps  have  written,  just  a  little  word," 
Esther  confessed  with  some  hesitation  and  diffi 
culty.  Pitt  was  more  touched  and  sorry  than  he 
would  have  supposed  before  that  such  a  matter 
could  make  him. 

"  Look  here,  Esther,"  he  said.  "  There  are  two 
or  three  things  I  want  you  to  take  note  of.  The 
first  is,  that  you  must  never  judge  by  appearances." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Esther,  considering  him  and 
this  statement  together. 

"  Because  they  are  deceptive.     They  mislead." 

"  Do  they  ?  " 


84  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Very  frequently." 

"  What  is  one  to  judge  by,  then  ?  " 

"  Depends.  In  this  case,  by  your  knowledge  of 
the  person  concerned." 

Esther  looked  at  him,  and  a  warmer  shine  came 
into  her  eye. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  u  I  thought  it  was  not  like  you 
to  forget.  But  then,  papa  said  I  would  not  be  likely 
to  see  much  more  of  you — ever — "  (Esther  got  the 
words  out  with  some  difficulty,  without  however 
breaking  down) — "and  I  thought,  I  had  to  get 
accustomed  to  doing  without  you — and  I  had 
better  do  it." 

"  Why  should  you  not  see  much  more  of  me  ?  " 
Pitt  demanded  energetically. 

"  You  would  be  going  away — " 

"  And  coming  back  again  !  " 

"But  going  to  England,  perhaps." 

"Who  said  that?" 

"  I  don't  know.     I  think  Mrs.  Dallas  told  papa." 

"  Well,  now  look  here,  Queen  Esther,"  Pitt  said 
more  moderately.  "  I  told  you,  in  the  first  place 
you  are  not  to  judge  by  appearances.  Do  you  see 
that  you  have  been  mistaken  in  judging  me  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  a  look  that  moved  him  a  good 
deal,  there  was  so  much  wistfulness  in  it;  so  much 
desire  revealed  to  find  him  what  she  had  found 
him  in  times  past,  along  with  the  dawning  hope 
that  she  might. 

"  Yes,"  said  he  nodding, "  you  have  been  mistaken, 
and  I  did  not, expect  it  of  you,  Queen  Esther.  I 


COMING  HOME.  85 

don't  think  I  am  changeable,  but  anyhow,  I  haven't 
changed  towards  you.  I  have  but  just  got  home 
this  evening;  and  I  ran  away  from  home  and  my 
mother  as  soon  as  we  had  done  supper,  that  I 
might  come  and  see  you." 

Esther  smiled :  she  was  pleased,  he  saw. 

"  And  in  the  next  place,  as  to  that  crotchet  of 
your  not  seeing  much  more  of  me,  I  can't  imagine 
how  it  ever  got  up ;  but  it  isn't  true,  anyhow.  I 
expect  you'll  see  an  immense  deal  of  me.  I  may 
go  sometime  to  England;  about  that  I  can't  tell; 
but  if  I  go,  I  shall  come  back  again,  supposing  I 
am  alive.  And  now  do  you  see  that  it  would  be 
very  foolish  of  you  to  try  to  get  accustomed  to 
doing  without  me  ?  for  I  shall  not  let  you  do  it." 

"  I  don't  want  to  do  it,"  said  Esther  confidingly ; 
"  for  you  know  I  have  nobody  else  except  you  and 
papa." 

"  What  put  such  an  absurd  notion  in  your  head? 
You  a  Stoic,  Queen  Esther !  You  look  like  it !  " 

"What  is  a  Stoic?" 

"  The  sort  of  people  that  bite  a  nail  in  two,  and 
smile  as  if  it  were  a  stick  of  peppermint  candy." 

"  I  didn't  know  there  were  any  such  people." 

"No,  naturally.  So  it  won't  do  for  you  to  try 
to  imitate  them." 

"  But  I  was  not  trying  anything  like  that." 

"  What  were  you  trying  to  do,  then  ?  " 

Esther  hesitated. 

"  I  thought — I  must  do  without  you ;  and  so — I 
thought  I  had  better  not  think  about  you." 


86  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Did  you  succeed  ?  " 

"  Not  very  well.    But — I  suppose  I  could,  in  time." 

"  See  you  don't !  What  do  you  think  in  that 
case  I  should  do  ?  " 

"0  you"— said  Esther,— " that  is  different.  I 
thought  you  would  not  care." 

"  Did  you !  You  did  me  honour.  Now  Queen 
Esther,  let  us  understand  this  matter.  I  do  care, 
and  I  am  going  to  care,  and  I  shall  always  care. 
Do  you  believe  it  ?  " 

"  I  always  believe  what  you  say,"  said  the  girl, 
with  a  happy  change  in  her  face,  which  touched 
Pitt  again  curiously.  Somehow,  the  contrast  be 
tween  his  own  strong,  varied,  rich  and  active  life, 
with  its  abundance  of  resources  and  enjoyments, 
careless  and  satisfied, — and  this  little  girl  alone  at 
home  with  her  cranky  father,  and  no  variety  or 
change  or  outlook  or  help,  struck  him  painfully. 
It  would  hardly  have  struck  most  young  men ;  but 
Pitt,  with  all  his  rollicking  waywardness  and  self- 
pleasing,  had  a  fine  fibre  in  him  which  could  feel 
things.  Then  Esther's  nature,  he  knew,  was  one 
rich  in  possibilities ;  to  which  life  was  likely  to  bring 
great  joy  or  great  sorrow;  more  probably  both. 

"What  book  have  you  got  there?"  he  asked 
suddenly. 

"Book?— 0,  the  Bible." 

u  The  Bible !  That's  something  beyond  your 
comprehension,  isn't  it?" 

"  No,"  said  Esther.  "  What  made  you  think  it 
was  ?  " 


COMING  HOME.  87 

"Always  heard  it  wasn't  the  thing  for  children. 
What  set  you  at  that,  Queen  Esther?  Reading 
about  your  namesake?  " 

"  I  have  read  about  her.  I  wasn't  reading  about 
her  to-night." 

"  What  were  you  after,  then  ?  " 

"  It's  mamma's  Bible,"  said  Esther  rather  slowly ; 
"  and  she  used  to  say  it  was  the  best  place  to  go 
for  comfort." 

u  Comfort !  What  do  you  want  comfort  for, 
Esther?" 

"  Nothing,  now,"  she  said  with  a  smile.  "  I  am 
so  glad  you  are  come  !  " 

"  What  did  you  want  comfort  for,  then  ?  "  said 
he,  taking  her  hand  and  holding  it  while  he  looked 
into  her  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know — papa  had  gone  to  bed,  and  I 
was  alone, — and  somehow  it  seemed  lonesome." 

"  Will  you  go  with  me  to-morrow  after  Christmas 
greens  ?  " 

"  0  may  1 1 "  cried  the  girl,  with  such  a  flush 
of  delight  coming  into  eyes  and  cheeks  and  lips 
that  Pitt  was  almost  startled. 

"  I  don't  think  I  could  enjoy  it  unless  you  went 
along.  And  then  you  will  help  me  dress  the  rooms." 

"  What  rooms  ?  " 

"  Our  rooms  at  home.  And  now,  what  have  you 
been  doing  since  I  have  been  away  ?  " 

All  shadows  were  got  rid  of;  and  there  followed 
a  half  hour  of  most  eager  intercourse,  questions 
and  answers  coming  thick  upon  one  another.  Es- 


88  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

ther  was  curious  to  hear  all  that  Pitt  would  tell 
her  about  his  life  and  doings  at  college ;  and  noth 
ing  loath,  Pitt  gave  it  her.  It  interested  him  to 
watch  the  play  of  thought  and  interest  in  the  child's 
features  as  he  talked.  She  comprehended  him,  and 
she  seemed  to  take  in  without  difficulty  the  strange 
nature  and  conditions  of  his  college  world. 

"  Do  you  have  to  study  hard  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  That's  as  I  please.  One  must  study  hard  to  be 
distinguished." 

"  And  you  will  be  distinguished,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  think  ?     Do  you  care  about  it?  " 

"  Yes,  I  care,"  said  Esther  slowly. 

"  You  were  not  anxious  about  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said  smiling.  "  Papa  said  you  would 
be  sure  to  distinguish  yourself." 

"  Did  he !  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  Col. 
Gainsborough." 

"What  for?"        .    .    . 

"  Why,  for  his  good  opinion." 

"  But  he  couldn't  help  his  opinion,"  said  Esther. 

"  Queen  Esther,"  said  Pitt  laughing,  "  I  don't 
know  about  that.  People  sometimes  hold  opinions 
they  have  no  business  to  hold,  and  that  they  would 
not  hold,  if  they  were  not  perverse-minded." 

Esther's  face  had  all  changed  since  he  came 
in.  The  premature  gravity  and  sadness  was  en 
tirely  dispersed ;  the  eyes  were  full  of  beautiful  light, 
the  mouth  taking  a  great  many  curves  correspond 
ing  to  as  many  alternations  and  shades  of  sym 
pathy,  and  a  slight  colour  of  interest  and  pleasure 


COMING  HOME.  89 

had  risen  in  the  cheeks.  If  Pitt  had  vanity  to 
gratify,  it  was  gratified;  but  he  had  something 
better,  he  had  a  genuine  kindness  and  liking  for 
the  little  girl,  which  had  suffered  absolute  pain 
when  he  saw  how  his  absence  and  silence  had 
worked.  Now  the  two  were  in  full  enjoyment  of 
the  old  relations  and  the  old  intercourse;  when  the 
door  opened  and  Mrs.  Barker's  head  appeared. 

"  Miss  Esther,  it's  your  time." 

"Time  for  what?"  asked  Pitt. 

"  It's  my  time  for  going  to  bed,"  said  Esther  ris 
ing.  u  I'll  come,  Mrs.  Barker." 

"Queen  Esther,  does  that  woman  say  what  you  are 
to  do  and  not  do?"  said  Pitt  in  some  indignation. 

"0  no ;  but  papa.  He  likes  me  not  to  be  up  later 
than  nine  o'clock." 

"  What  has  Barker  to  do  with  it  ?  I  think  she 
wants  putting  in  her  place." 

"  She  always  goes  with  me  and  attends  to  me. 
Yes,  I  must  go,"  said  Esther. 

"But  the  colonel  is  not  here  to  be  disturbed." 

"He  would  be  disturbed,  if  I  didn't  go  at  the 
right  time.  Good  night,  Pitt." 

"Well,  till  to-morrow,"  said  the  young  man, 
taking  Esther's  hand  and  kissing  it.  "  But  this  is 
what  I  call  a  very  summary  proceeding.  Queen 
Esther,  does  your  majesty  always  do  what  you  are 
expected  to  do,  and  take  orders  from  everybody  ?  " 

"No;  only  from  papa,  and  you.  Good  night, 
Pitt.  Yes,  I'll  be  ready  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  NOSEGAY. 

PITT  walked  home,  half  amused  at  himself  that 
1  he  should  take  so  much  pains  about  this  little 
girl,  at  the  same  time  very  firmly  resolved  that 
nothing  should  hinder  him.  Perhaps  his  liking 
for  her  was  deeper  than  he  knew;  it  was  certainly 
real;  while  his  kindly  and  generous  temper  re 
sponded  promptly  to  every  appeal  that  her  affection 
and  confidence  made  upon  him.  Affection  and  con 
fidence  are  very  winning  things,  even  if  not  given 
by  a  beautiful  girl  who  will  soon  be  a  beautiful 
woman;  but  looking  out  from  Esther's  innocent 
eyes  they  went  down  into  the  bottom  of  young 
Dallas's  heart.  And  besides,  his  nature  was  not 
only  kind  and  noble ;  it  was  obstinate.  Opposition, 
to  him,  in  a  thing  he  thought  good  to  pursue,  was 
like  blows  of  a  hammer  on  a  nail;  drove  the  pur 
pose  further  in. 

So  he  made  himself,  it  is  true,  very  pleasant  in 
deed  to  his  parents  at  home,  that  night  and  the 
next  morning ;  but  then  he  went  with  Esther  after 
(90) 


A  NOSEGAY.  91 

cedar  and  hemlock  branches.  It  may  be  asked, 
what  opposition  had  he  hitherto  found  to  his  in 
tercourse  with  the  colonel's  daughter  ?  And  it 
must  be  answered,  none.  Nevertheless,  Pitt  felt 
it  in  the  air,  and  it  had  the  effect  on  him  that 
the  north  wind  and  cold  are  said  to  have  upon 
timber. 

It  was  a  day  of  days  for  Esther.  First  the 
delightful  roving  walk,  and  cutting  the  greens, 
which  were  bestowed  in  a  wagon  that  attended 
them;  then  the  wonderful  novelty  of  dressing  the 
house.  Esther  had  never  seen  anything  of  the 
kind  before,  which  did  not  hinder  her  however 
from  giving  very  good  help.  The  hall,  the  sitting 
room,  the  drawing  room,  and  even  Pitt's  particular, 
out-of-the-way  work-room,  all  were  wreathed  and 
adorned  and  dressed  up,  each  after  its  manner. 
For  Pitt  would  not  have  one  place  a  repetition  of 
another.  The  bright  berries  of  the  winterberry 
and  bittersweet  were  mingled  with  the  dark  shade 
of  the  evergreens  in  many  ingenious  ways;  but  the 
crowning  triumph  of  art,  perhaps,  to  Esther's  eyes, 
was  a  motto  in  green  letters,  picked  out  with  brill 
iant  partridge  berries,  over  the  end  of  the  sitting 
room.  "  Peace  on  earth."  Esther  stood  in  delighted 
admiration  before  it;  also  pondering. 

"  Pitt,"  she  said  at  last,  "  those  partridge  berries 
ought  not  to  be  in  it  ?  " 

»  Why  not  ?  "  said  Pitt  in  astonishment.  "  I 
think  they  set  it  off  capitally." 

44  0  so  they  do.     I  didn't  mean  that.     They  are 


92  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

beautiful,  very.  But  you  know  what  you  said  about 
them." 

"What  did  I  say?" 

"You  said  they  were  poison." 

"Poison!  What  then,  Queen  Esther?  they  won't 
hurt  anybody  up  there.  No  partridge  will  get  at 
them." 

"0  no,  it  isn't  that,  Pitt:  but  I  was  thinking — 
Poison  shouldn't  be  in  that  message  of  the  angels — ?" 

Pitt's  face  lighted  up. 

"Queen  Esther,"  said  he  solemnly,  "are  you  going 
to  be  that  sort  of  person  ?  " 

u  What  sort  of  person  ?  " 

"  One  of  those  whose  spirits  are  attuned  to  finer 
issues  than  their  neighbours  ?  They  are  the  stuff 
that  poets  are  made  of.  You  are  not  a  poet,  are 
you?" 

"No  indeed !  "  said  Esther  laughing. 

"  Don't !  I  think  it  must  be  uncomfortable  to  have 
to  do  with  a  poet.  You  may  notice,  that  in  nature 
the  dwellers  on  the  earth  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  dwellers  in  the  air." 

"  Except  to  be  food  for  them,"  said  Esther. 

"Ah! — Well, — leaving  that, — I  should  never  have 
thought  about  the  partridge  berries  in  that  motto, 
and  my  mother  would  never  have  thought  of  it. 
For  all  that,  you  are  right.  What  shall  we  do  ? 
take  'em  down  ?  " 

"  0  no,  they  look  so  pretty.  And  besides, — I 
suppose,  Pitt,  by  and  by,  poison  itself  will  turn  to 
peace." 


A  NOSEGAY.  93 

"What?"  said  Pitt.  "What  is  that?  What 
can  you  mean,  Queen  Esther  ?  " 

"  Only," — said  Esther  a  little  doubtfully, — "  I  was 
thinking. — You  know,  when  the  time  comes  there 
will  be  nothing  to  hurt  or  destroy,  in  all  the  earth ; 
the  wild  beasts  will  not  be  wild,  and  so  I  suppose 
poison  will  not  be  poison." 

"The  wild  beasts  will  not  be  wild?  what  will 
they  be,  then  ?  " 

"  Tame." 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  idea  ?  " 

"  It  is  in  the  Bible.     It  is  not  an  idea." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Mamma  used  to  read  it  to  me  and 
tell  me  about  it." 

"Well,  you  shall  shew  me  the  place  some  time. 
— How  do  you  like  it,  mother?" 

This  question  being  addressed  to  Mrs.  Dallas,  who 
appeared  in  the  doorway.  She  gave  great  approval. 

"  Do  you  like  the  effect  of  the  partridge  berries  ?  " 
Pitt  asked. 

"  It  is  excellent,  I  think.  They  brighten  it  up 
finely." 

"  What  would  you  say  if  you  knew  they  were 
poison  ?  " 

"That  would  not  make  any  difference.  They 
do  no  hurt  unless  you  swallow  them,  I  suppose." 

"  Esther  finds  in  them  an  emblem  of  the  time 
when  the  message  of  peace  shall  have  neutralized 
all  the  hurtful  things  in  the  world,  and  made  them 
harmless." 


94  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Mrs.  Dallas's  eye  fell  coldly  upon  Esther.  "  I  do 
not  think  the  Church  knows  of  any  such  time,"  she 
answered,  as  she  turned  away.  .  Pitt  whistled  for 
some  time  thereafter  in  silence. 

The  decorations  were  finished,  and  most  lovely 
to  Esther's  eyes ;  then,  when  they  were  all  done,  she 
went  home  to  tea.  For  getting  the  greens  and 
putting  them  up,  had  taken  both  the  morning  and 
the  afternoon  to  accomplish.  She  went  home  gay- 
ly,  with  a  brisk  step  and  a  merry  heart;  at  the 
same  time  thinking  busily. 

Home,  in  its  dull  uniformity  and  stillness,  was  a 
contrast  after  the  stir  and  freshness  and  prettiness 
of  life  in  the  Dallas's  house.  It  struck  Esther 
rather  painfully.  The  room  where  she  and  her 
father  took  their  supper  was  pleasant  and  homely 
indeed ;  a  bright  fire  burned  on  the  hearth,  or  in 
the  grate  rather,  and  a  bright  lamp  shone  on  the 
table;  Barker  had  brought  in  the  tea  urn,  and  the 
business  of  preparing  tea  for  her  father  was  one 
that  Esther  always  liked.  But  nevertheless  the 
place  approached  too  nearly  a  picture  of  still  life. 
The  urn  hissed  and  bubbled,  a  comfortable  sound; 
and  now  and  then  there  was  a  falling  coal  or  a  jet 
of  gas  flame  in  the  fire;  but  I  think  these  things 
perhaps  made  the  stillness  more  intense  and  more 
noticeable.  The  colonel  sat  on  his  sofa,  breaking 
dry  toast  into  his  tea  and  thoughtfully  swallowing 
it ;  he  said  nothing,  unless  to  demand  another  cup ; 
and  Esther,  though  she  had  a  healthy  young  ap 
petite,  could  not  quite  stay  the  mental  longing  with 


A  NOSEGAY.  95 

the  material  supply.  Besides,  she  was  pondering 
something  curiously. 

"Papa,"  she  said  at  last,  "are  you  busy?  May 
I  ask  you  something  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Papa,  what  is  Christmas?  " 

The  colonel  looked  up. 

"  What  is  Christmas  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  It  is  noth 
ing,  Esther;  nothing  at  all.  A  name, — nothing 
more  ?  " 

"  Then,  why  do  people  think  so  much  of  Christ 
mas?" 

"  They  do  not.  Sensible  people  do  not  think  any 
thing  of  it.  Christmas  is  nothing  to  me" 

"  But  papa,  why  then  does  anybody  make  much 
of  it  ?  Mrs.  Dallas  has  her  house  all  dressed  up 
with  greens." 

"  You  had  better  keep  away  from  Mrs.  Dallas's." 

"  But  it  looks  so  pretty,  papa !  Is  there  any  harm 
in  it?" 

"  Harm  in  what  ?  " 

"Dressing  the  house  so?  It  is  all  hemlock 
wreaths,  arid  cedar  branches,  and  bright  red  berries 
here  and  there ;  and  Pitt  has  put  them  up  so  beauti 
fully  !  You  can't  think  how  pretty  it  all  is.  Is 
there  any  harm  in  that,  papa  ?  " 

"Decidedly;  in  my  judgment." 

"  Why  do  they  do  it  then,  papa?  " 

"  My  dear,  they  have  a  foolish  fancy  that  it  is 
the  time  when  Christ  was  born;  and  so  in  Romish 
times  a  special  Popish  mass  was  said  on  that  day ; 


96  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

and  from  that  the  twenty-fifth  of  December  got  its 
present  name.  Christ-mass. — That  is  what  it  is." 

"  Then  he  was  not  born  the  twenty-fifth  of 
December  ?  " 

"  No,  nor  in  December  at  all.  Nothing  is  plainer 
than  that  spring  was  the  time  of  our  Lord's  com 
ing  into  the  world.  The  shepherds  were  watching 
their  flocks  by  night;  that  could  not  have  been  in 
the  depth  of  winter;  it  must  have  been  in  the 
spring." 

"  Then  why  don't  they  have  Christmas  in  spring 
time  ?  " 

"Don't  ask  me,  my  dear;  I  don't  know.  The 
thing  began  in  the  ages  of  ignorance,  I  suppose; 
and  as  all  it  means  now  is  a  time  of  feasting  and 
jollity,  the  dead  of  winter  will  do  as  well  as  an 
other  time.  But  it  is  a  Popish  observance,  my 
child;  it  is  a  Popish  observance." 

"  There's  no  harm  in  it,  papa,  is  there  ? — if  it 
means  only  feasting  and  jollity,  as  you  say." 

"  There  is  always  harm  in  superstition.  This  is 
no  more  the  time  of  Christ's  birth  than  any  other 
day  that  you  could  choose;  but  there  is  a  super 
stition  about  it;  and  I  object  to  giving  a  supersti 
tious  reverence  to  what  is  nothing  at  all.  Rever 
ence  the  Bible  as  much  as  you  please;  you  cannot 
too  much;  but  do  not  put  any  ordinance  of  man, 
whether  it  be  of  the  Popish  church  or  any  other, 
on  a  level  with  what  the  Bible  commands." 

The  colonel  had  finished  his  toast,  and  was  turn 
ing  to  his  book  again. 


A  NOSEGAY.  97 

"  Pitt  has  been  telling  me  of  the  way  they  keep 
Christmas  in  England,"  Esther  went  on.  "The 
Yule  log,  and  the  games,  and  the  songs,  and  the 
plays." 

"  Godless  ways,"  said  the  colonel,  settling  himself 
to  his  reading ; — "  godless  ways !  It  is  a  great  deal 
better  in  this  country,  where  they  make  nothing 
of  Christmas.  No  good  comes  of  those  things." 

Esther  would  disturb  her  father  no  more  by  her 
words,  but  she  went  on  pondering,  unsatisfied.  In 
any  question  which  put  Mrs.  Dallas  and  her  father 
on  opposite  sides,  she  had  no  doubt  whatever  that 
her  father  must  be  in  the  right;  but  it  was  a  pity, 
for  surely  in  the  present  case  Mrs.  Dallas's  house 
had  the  advantage.  The  Christmas  decorations 
had  been  so  pretty !  the  look  of  them  was  so  bright 
and  festive !  the  walls  she  had  round  her  at  home 
were  bare  and  stiff  and  cold.  No  doubt  her  father 
must  be  right,  but  it  was  a  pity ! 

The  next  day  was  Christmas  day.  Pitt  being 
in  attendance  on  his  father  and  mother,  busied 
with  the  religious  and  other  observances  of  the 
festival,  Esther  did  not  see  him  till  the  afternoon. 
Late  in  the  day,  however,  he  came,  and  brought 
in  his  hands  a  large  bouquet  of  hothouse  flowers. 
If  the  two  had  been  alone,  Esther  would  have 
greeted  him  and  them  with  very  lively  demonstra 
tions;  as  it  was,  it  amused  the  young  man  to  see 
the  sparkle  in  her  eye,  and  the  lips  half  opened  for 
a  cry  of  joy,  and  the  sudden  flush  on  her  cheek, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  quiet,  unexcited  demean- 


98  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

our  she  maintained.  Esther  rose  indeed,  but  then 
stood  silent  and  motionless  and  said  not  a  word; 
while  Pitt  paid  his  compliments  to  her  father.  A 
new  fire  flashed  from  her  eye  when  at  last  he  ap 
proached  her  and  offered  her  the  flowers. 

"0  Pitt!— 0  Pitt!  "was  all  Esther  with  bated 
breath  could  say.  The  colonel  eyed  the  bouquet 
a  moment  and  then  turned  to  nis  book.  He  was 
on  his  sofa,  and  seemingly  gave  no  further  heed  to 
the  young  people. 

U0  Pitt,  where  could  you  get  these  !  "  The  girl's 
breath  was  almost  taken  away. 

"  Only  one  place  where  I  could  get  them.  Don't 
you  know  old  Macpherson's  greenhouse?" 

"  But  he  don't  let  people  in,  I  thought,  in  winter  ?  " 

"  He  let  me  in." 

"0  Pitt,  how  wonderful!  What  is  this?  Now 
you  must  tell  me  all  the  names.  This  beautiful 
white  geranium  with  purple  lines?  " 

"It's  a  Pelargonium;  belongs  to  the  Geraniacese; 
this  one  they  call  Mecranthon.  It's  a  beauty,  isn't 
it?  This  little  white  blossom  is  Myrtle;  don't  you 
know  myrtle  ?  " 

"  And  this  geranium  ?  this  purple  one  ?  " 

"That  is  Napoleon;  and  this  Louise,  and  this 
Belle.  This  red  magnificence  is  a  Metrosideros; 
this  white  flower,  is — I  forget  its  name;  but 
this,  this  sweet  one,  is  Daphne.  Then  here  are 
two  heaths;  then  this  thick  leaf  is  Laurustinus, 
and  this  other,  with  the  red  bud,  Camellia  ja- 
ponica." 


A  NOSEGAY.  99 

"  0  how  perfectly  beautiful  ! "  exclaimed  the  de 
lighted  child.  "  0  how  perfectly  beautiful !  And 
this  yellow  flower  ?  " 

"  Coronilla" 

"And  this, — is  it  a  red  wallflower?" 

"A  red  wallflower;  you  are  right." 

"  0  how  lovely !  and  how  sweet !  And  these 
blue?" 

"  These  little  blue  flowers  are  Lobelia;  they  are 
cousins  of  the  cardinal  flower;  that  is  Lobelia  cardi- 
nalis;  these  are  Lobelia  erinus  and  Lobelia  gracilis" 

He  watched  the  girl,  for  under  the  surprise  and 
pleasure  of  his  gift  her  face  was  itself  but  a  nobler 
flower,  all  glowing  and  flashing  and  fragrant.  With 
eyes  dewy  with  delight  she  hung  over  the  bouquet, 
almost  trembling  in  her  eagerness  of  joy.  She  set 
the  flowers  carefully  in  a  vase,  with  tender  circum 
spection,  lest  a  leaf  might  be  wronged  by  chance 
crowding  or  inadvertent  handling.  Pitt  watched 
and  read  it  all.  He  felt  a  great  compassion  for 
Esther.  This  creature,  full  of  life  and  sensibility, 
receptive  to  every  influence,  at  twelve  years  old 
shut  up  to  the  company  of  a  taciturn  and  melan 
choly  father  and  an  empty  house !  What  would 
ever  become  of  her?  There  was  the  colonel  now, 
on  the  sofa,  attending  only  to  his  book;  caring 
nothing  for  what  was  so  moving  his  child.  No 
body  cared,  or  was  anywhere  to  sympathize  with 
her.  And  if  she  grew  up  so,  shut  up  to  herself, 
every  feeling  and  desire  repressed  for  want  of 
expression  or  of  somebody  to  express  it  to,  how 


100  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

would  her  nature  ever  develop?  would  it  not  grow 
stunted  and  poor,  compared  with  what  it  might 
be?  He  was  sorry  for  his  little  playmate  and 
friend;  and  it  did  the  young  fellow  credit,  I  think, 
for  at  his  age  boys  are  not  wont  to  be  tenderly 
sympathetic  towards  anything,  unless  it  be  a  be 
loved  mother  or  sister.  Pitt  silently  watched  the 
putting  the  flowers  in  water,  speculating  upon  the 
very  unhopeful  condition  of  this  little  human  plant, 
and  revolving  schemes  in  his  mind. 

After  he  had  gone,  Col.  Gainsborough  bade  Es 
ther  shew  him  her  flowers.  She  brought  the  dish 
to  his  sofa.  The  colonel  reviewed  them  with  a 
somewhat  jealous  eye,  did  not  seem  to  perceive 
their  beauty,  and  told  her  to  take  them  away  again. 
But  the  next  day,  when  Esther  was  not  in  the  room, 
he  examined  the  collection  carefully,  looking  to  see 
if  there  were  anything  that  looked  like  contraband 
"Christmas  greens."  There  were  some  sprigs  of 
laurel  and  holly,  that  served  to  make  the  hues  of 
the  bouquet  more  varied  and  rich.  That  the 
colonel  did  not  think  of;  all  he  saw  was  that  they 
were  bits  of  the  objectionable  "Christmas."  Col. 
Gainsborough  carefully  pulled  them  out  and  threw 
them  in  the  fire;  and  nothing  I  fear  saved  the 
laurustinus  and  japonica  from  a  like  fate  but  their 
exquisite  large  blossoms.  Esther  was  not  slow  to 
miss  the  green  leaves  abstracted  from  her  vase. 

"  Papa,"  she  said  in  some  bewilderment,  "  I  think 
somebody  has  been  at  my  flowers;  there  is  some 
green  gone." 


A  NOSEGAY.  101 

"  I  took  out  some  sprigs  of  laurel  and  holly,"  said 
her  father.  "  I  cannot  have  any  Christmas  decora 
tions  here." 

"0  papa,  Pitt  did  not  mean  them  for  any  such 
thing ! " 

"  Whether  he  meant  it  or  no,  I  prefer  not  to  have 
them  there." 

Esther  was  silenced,  but  she  watched  her  vase 
with  rather  anxious  eyes  after  that  time.  However, 
there  was  no  more  meddling;  the  brilliant  blossoms 
were  allowed  to  adorn  the  place  and  Esther's  life 
as  long  as  they  would,  or  could.  She  cherished 
them  to  the  utmost  of  her  knowledge,  all  the  rather 
that  Pitt  was  gone  away  again;  she  gave  them 
fresh  water,  she  trimmed  off  the  unsightly  dry 
leaves  and  withered  blossoms;  but  all  would  not 
do;  they  lasted  for  a  time  and  then  followed  the 
law  of  their  existence  and  faded.  What  Esther  did 
then,  was  to  fetch  a  large  old  book  and  lay  the  dif 
ferent  sprigs,  leaves  or  flowers,  carefully  among 
its  pages  and  put  them  to  dry.  She  loved  every 
leaf  of  them.  They  were  associated  in  her  mind 
with  all  that  pleasant  interlude  of  Christmas;  Pitt's 
coming,  his  kindness;  their  going  after  greens  to 
gether,  and  dressing  the  house.  The  bright  inter 
lude  was  past;  Pitt  had  gone  back  to  college;  and 
the  little  girl  cherished  the  faded  green  things  as 
something  belonging  to  that  good  time  which  was 
gone.  She  would  dry  them  carefully  and  keep 
them  always,  she  thought. 

A  day  or  two  later,  her  father  noticed  that  the 


102  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

vase  was  empty,  and  asked  Esther  what  she  had 
done  with  her  flowers  ? 

"They  were  withered,  papa;  they  were  spoilt;  I 
could  not  keep  them." 

"  What  did  you  do  with  them  ?  " 

"  Papa,  I  thought  I  would  try  to  dry  them." 

"  Yes,  and  what  did  you  do  with  them  ?  " 

"  Papa,  I  put  them  in  that  old,  odd  volume  of  the 
Encyclopaedia," 

"  Bring  it  here  and  let  me  see." 

Much  wondering  and  a  little  discomfited,  Esther 
obeyed.  She  brought  the  great  book  to  the  side  of 
the  sofa,  and  turned  over  the  pages  carefully,  shew 
ing  the  dried  and  drying  leaves.  She  had  a  great 
love  to  them ;  what  did  her  father  want  with  them  ? 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  with  those  things, 
when  they  are  dry  ?  They  are  staining  the  book." 

"  It's  an  old  book,  papa;  it  is  no  harm,  is  it?  " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  them  ?  Are 
they  to  remain  here  permanently?" 

44 0  no,  sir;  they  are  only  put  here  to  dry.  I  put 
a  weight  on  the  book.  They  will  be  dry  soon." 

"And  what  then?" 

"Then  I  will  take  them  out,  papa.  It's  an  old 
book." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  with  them?" 

"  I  will  keep  them,  sir." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  keeping  the  flowers  after 
their  beauty  is  gone  ?  I  do  not  think  that  is  worth 
while." 

"Some  of  their  beauty  is  gone,"  said  Esther,  with 


A  NOSEGAY.  103 

a  certain  tenderness  for  the  plants  manifested  in  her 
manner, — "but  I  love  them  yet,  papa." 

"That  is  not  wise,  my  child.  Why  should  you 
love  a  parcel  of  dry  leaves  ?  Love  what  is  worthy 
to  be  loved.  I  think  I  would  throw  them  all  in  the 
fire." 

"  Oh  papa  !— " 

"  That's  the  best,  my  dear.  They  are  only  rub 
bish.  I  object  to  the  hoarding  of  rubbish.  It  is  a 
poor  habit." 

The  colonel  turned  his  attention  again  to  his 
book,  and  perhaps  did  not  even  remark  how  Es 
ther  sat  with  a  disconsolate  face  on  the  floor,  look 
ing  at  her  condemned  treasures.  He  would  not 
have  understood  it  if  he  had  seen.  In  his  nature 
there  was  no  key  to  the  feeling  which  now  was 
driving  the  tears  into  Esther's  eyes  and  making  her 
heart  swell.  Like  many  men,  and  many  women 
for  the  matter  of  that,  Col.  Gainsborough  had  very 
little  power  of  association.  He  would  indeed  have 
regarded  with  sacred  reverence  anything  that  had 
once  belonged  to  his  wife,  down  to  her  shoe;  in 
that  one  instance  the  tension  of  feeling  was  strong 
enough  to  make  the  cords  tremble  under  the  light 
est  touch.  In  other  relations,  what  did  it  matter  ? 
They  were  nothing  to  him;  and  if  Col.  Gainsbor 
ough  made  his  own  estimate  the  standard  of  the 
worth  of  things,  he  only  did  what  I  am  afraid  we 
all  do,  more  or  less.  At  any  rate,  his  was  not  one 
of  those  finer  strung  natures  which  recognize  the 
possibility  of  worlds  of  knowledge  and  feeling  not 


104  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

open  to  themselves.  It  is  also  just  possible  that  he 
divined  his  daughter's  sentiment  in  regard  to  the 
flowers  enough  to  be  jealous  of  it. 

But  Esther  did  not  immediately  move  to  obey 
his  order.  She  sat  on  the  floor  with  the  big  book 
before  her,  the  open  page  shewing  a  half  dry  blos 
som  of  the  Mecranthon  geranium  which  was  still  to 
her  eyes  very  beautiful.  And  all  the  associations 
of  that  pleasant  Christmas  afternoon  when  Pitt  had 
brought  it  and  told  her  what  its  name  was,  rose 
up  before  her.  She  was  exceedingly  unwilling  to 
burn  it.  The  colonel  perhaps  had  a  guess  that  he 
had  given  a  hard  command;  for  he  did  not  look 
again  at  Esther  or  speak  to  her,  or  take  any  notice 
of  her  delay  of  obedience.  That  she  would  obey 
he  knew;  and  he  let  her  take  her  time.  So  he  did 
not  see  the  big  tears  that  filled  her  eyes,  nor  the 
quiet  way  in  which  she  got  rid  of  them ;  while  the 
hurt,  sorrowful,  regretful  look  on  her  face  would 
have  certainly  moved  Pitt  to  indignation  if  he  had 
been  where  he  could  see  it.  I  am  afraid  if  the 
colonel  had  seen  it,  Jie  would  have  been  moved  quite 
in  a  different  way.  Not  to  anger,  indeed;  Col. 
Gainsborough  was  never  angry  with  his  child,  as 
truly  she  never  gave  him  cause;  but  I  think  he 
would  privately  have  applauded  the  wisdom  of  his 
regulation,  which  removed  such  objects  of  mis 
placed  sentiment  out  of  the  way  of  doing  further 
harm.  Esther  sat  and  looked  at  the  Mecranthon, 
brushed  away  her  tears  softly,  swallowed  her  re 
grets  and  unwillingness,  and  finally  rose  up,  car- 


A   NOSEGAY.  105 

ried  her  book  to  the  fire,  and  one  by  one,  turning 
the  leaves,  took  out  her  drying  favourites  and  threw 
them  into  the  glowing  grate.  It  was  done ;  and  she 
carried  the  book  away  and  put  it  in  its  old  place. 

But  a  week  later  it  happened  that  Esther  be 
thought  her  to  open  the  Encyclopaedia  again,  to 
look  at  the  marks  her  flowers  had  left  on  the  pages. 
For  they  had  stained  the  book  a  little,  and  here  arid 
there  she  could  discern  the  outline  of  a  sprig,  and 
trace  a  faint  dash  of  colour  left  behind  by  the  petals 
of  some  flower  rich  in  its  dyes.  If  it  appears  from 
this  that  the  colonel  was  right  in  checking  the 
feeling  which  ran  to  such  extremes,  I  cannot  help 
that;  I  am  reporting  the  facts.  Esther  turned  over 
the  book,  from  one  place  to  another  where  her 
flowers  had  lain.  Here  had  been  heath;  there 
coronilla;  here — 0  here  was  still  the  wallflower. 
Dried  beautifully;  delicate  and  unbroken  and  per 
fect  and  sweet.  There  was  nothing  else  left,  but 
here  was  the  wallflower.  A  great  movement  of 
joy  filled  Esther's  heart;  then  came  a  doubt.  Must 
this  be  burned  too  ?  Would  this  one  little  sprig 
matter  ?  She  had  obeyed  her  father,  and  destroyed 
all  the  rest  of  the  bouquet;  and  this  wallflower  had 
been  preserved  without  her  knowledge.  Since  it 
had  been  saved,  might  it  not  be  saved?  Esther 
looked,  studied,  hesitated;  and  finally  could  not 
make  up  her  mind  without  further  order  to  destroy 
this  last  blossom.  She  never  thought  of  asking 
her  father's  mind  about  it.  The  child  knew  in 
stinctively  that  he  would  not  understand  her;  a 


!06  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

sorrowful  thing  for  a  child  to  know;  it  did  not 
occur  to  her  that  if  he  had  understood  her  feeling 
he  would  have  been  still  less  likely  to  favour  it. 
She  kept  the  wallflower;  took  it  away  from  its  ex 
posed  situation  in  the  Encyclopaedia,  and  put  it  in 
great  safety  among  her  own  private  possessions. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
WANT  OF  COMFORT. 

THE  months  were  many  and  long  before  there 
came  another  break  in  the  monotony  of  Es 
ther's  life.  The  little  girl  was  thrown  upon  her 
own  resources ;  and  that  is  too  hard  a  position  for 
her  years,  or  perhaps  for  any  years.  She  had  liter 
ally  no  companion  but  her  father,  and  it  is  a  stretch 
of  courtesy  to  give  the  name  to  him.  Another  child 
would  have  fled  to  the  kitchen  for  society,  at  least 
to  hear  human  voices.  Esther  did  not.  The  in 
stincts  of  a  natural  high  breeding  restrained  her,  as 
well  as  the  habits  in  which  she  had  been  brought 
up.  Mrs.  Barker  waited  upon  her  at  night  and  in 
the  morning,  at  her  dressing  and  undressing;  some 
times  Esther  went  for  a  walk  attended  by  Christo 
pher;  the  rest  of  the  time  she  was  either  alone,  or 
in  the  large,  orderly  room  where  Col.  Gainsborough 
lay  upon  the  sofa;  arid  there  Esther  was  rather  more 
alone  than  anywhere  else.  The  colonel  was  read 
ing  ;  reverence  obliged  her  to  keep  quiet ;  he  drew 
long  breaths  of  weariness  or  sadness  every  now 
and  then,  which  every  time  came  like  a  cloud  over 

(107) 


108  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

such  sunshine  as  she  had  been  able  to  conjure  up ; 
and  besides  all  that,  notwithstanding  the  sighs 
and  the  reading,  her  father  always  noticed  and  knew 
what  she  was  doing.  Now  it  is  needless  to  say 
that  Col.  Gainsborough  had  forgotten  what  it  was 
to  be  a  child;  he  was  therefore  an  incompetent 
critic  of  a  child's  doings  or  judge  of  a  child's  wants. 
He  had  an  impatience  for  what  he  called  a  "  waste 
of  time";  but  Esther  was  hardly  old  enough  to  busy 
herself  exclusively  with  history  and  geography; 
and  the  little  innocent  amusements  to  which  she 
had  recourse  stood  but  a  poor  chance  under  his 
censorship.  "A  waste  of  time,  my  daughter," — 
he  would  say,  when  he  saw  Esther  busy  perhaps 
with  some  childish  fancy  work,  or  reading  some 
thing  from  which  she  promised  herself  entertain 
ment,  but  which  the  colonel  knew  promised 
nothing  more.  A  word  from  him  was  enough. 
Esther  would  lay  down  her  work  or  put  away  the 
book;  and  then  sit  in  forlorn  uncertainty  what  she 
should  do  to  make  the  long  hours  drag  less  heavily. 
History  and  geography  and  arithmetic  she  studied, 
in  a  sort,  with  her  father;  and  Col.  Gainsborough 
was  not  a  bad  teacher,  so  far  as  the  progress  of  his 
scholar  was  concerned.  So  far  as  her  pleasure 
went,  the  lessons  were  very  far  behind  those  she 
used  to  have  with  Pitt.  And  the  recitations  were 
short.  Col.  Gainsborough  gave  his  orders,  as  if  he 
were  on  a  campaign,  and  expected  to  see  them 
fulfilled.  Seeing  them  fulfilled,  he  turned  his 
attention  at  once  to  something  else. 


WANT  OF  COMFORT.  109 

Esther  longed  for  her  former  friend  and  in 
structor  with  a  longing  which  cannot  be  put  into 
words.  Yet  longing  is  hardly  the  expression  for 
it;  she  was  not  a  child  to  sit  and  wish  for  the  un 
attainable  ;  it  was  rather  a  deep  and  aching  sense 
of  want.  She  never  forgot  him.  If  Pitt's  own  mo 
ther  thought  of  him  more  constantly,  she  was  the 
only  person  in  the  world  of  whom  that  was  true. 
Pitt  sometimes  wrote  to  Col.  Gainsborough;  and 
then  Esther  treasured  up  every  revelation  and  de 
tail  of  the  letter  and  added  them  to  what  she  knew 
already,  so  to  piece  out  as  full  an  image  as  possible 
of  Pitt's  life  and  doings.  But  how  the  child  wanted 
him,  missed  him,  and  wept  for  him !  Though  of 
the  latter  not  much;  she  was  not  a  child  given  to 
crying.  The  harder  for  her,  perhaps. 

The  Dallases,  husband  and  wife,  were  not  much 
seen  at  this  time  in  the  colonel's  quiet  house.  Mr. 
Dallas  did  come  sometimes  of  an  evening  and  sat 
and  talked  with  its  master;  and  he  was  not  refresh 
ing  to  Esther,  not  even  when  the  talk  ran  upon 
his  absent  son ;  for  the  question  had  begun  to  be 
mooted  publicly,  whether  Pitt  should  go  to  Eng 
land  to  finish  his  education.  It  began  to  be  spoken 
of  in  Pitt's  letters  too;  he  supposed  it  would  come 
to  that,  he  said ;  his  mother  and  father  had  set  their 
hearts  on  Oxford  or  Cambridge.  Col.  Gainsborough 
heartily  approved.  It  was  like  a  knell  of  fate  to 
Esther. 

They  were  alone  together  one  day,  as  usual,  the 
father  and  daughter;  and  silence  had  reigned  a  long 


110  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

while  in  the  room,  when  Esther  broke  it.  She  had 
been  sitting  poring  over  a  book ;  now  she  looked  up 
with  a  very  burdened  brow  and  put  her  question. 

"  Papa,  how  do  people  get  comfort  out  of  the 
Bible?" 

"  Eh  ? — what,  my  dear  ?  "  said  the  colonel  rous 
ing  his  attention. 

"  What  must  one  do,  to  get  comfort  out  of  the 
Bible?" 

"Comfort?"  repeated  the  colonel,  now  look 
ing  round  at  her.  "Are  you  in  want  of  comfort, 
Esther?" 

"  I  would  like  to  know  how  to  find  it,  papa,  if  it 
is  here." 

"  Here  ?  What  have  you  got  there  ?  Come  where 
I  can  see  you." 

Esther  drew  near,  unwillingly.  "It  is  the  Bible, 
papa." 

"  And  what  is  it  you  want  from  the  Bible  ? — 
Comfort  ?  " 

"  Mamma  used  to  say  one  could  get  comfort  in 
the  Bible;  and  I  wanted  to  know  how." 

"  Did  she  ?  "  said  the  colonel,  with  grave  thought- 
fulness.  But  he  said  no  more.  Esther  waited. 
Her  father's  tone  had  changed;  he  seemed  to  have 
gone  back  into  regions  of  the  past,  and  to  have 
forgotten  her.  The  minutes  ran  on,  without  her 
daring  to  remind  him  that  her  question  was  still 
unanswered.  The  colonel  at- last,  with  a  long  sigh, 
took  up  his  book  again;  then  seemed  to  bethink 
him,  and  turned  to  Esther. 


WANT  OF  COMFORT.  Ill 

"  I  do  not  know,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "  I  never 
could  get  it  there  myself,  except  in  a  very  modified 
way.  Perhaps  it  is  my  fault." 

The  subject  was  disposed  of,  as  far  as  the  colonel 
was  concerned.  Esther  could  ask  him  no  more. 
But  that  evening,  when  Mrs.  Barker  was  attending 
upon  her,  she  made  one  more  trial. 

"  Barker,  do  you  know  the  Bible  much  ?  " 

"  The  Bible,  Miss  Esther  !  " 

"  Yes.  Have  you  read  it  a  great  deal  ?  do  you 
know  what  is  in  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  Miss  Esther,  I  aint  a  heathen.  I  do  read 
my  Bible,  to  be  sure,  more  or  less,  all  my  life;  so 
to  speak ;  which  is  to  say,  ever  since  I  could  read  at 
all." 

"  Did  you  ever  find  comfort  in  it  ?  " 

"  Comfort,  Miss  Esther  ?  Did  I  ever  find  comfort 
in  it,  did  ye  ask  ?  "  the  housekeeper  repeated,  very 
much  puzzled.  "  Well,  I  can't  just  say.  Mebbe  I 
never  was  just  particlarly  lookin'  for  that  article 
when  I  went  to  my  Bible.  I  don't  remember  as  1 
never  was  in  no  special  want  o'  comfort — sich  as 
should  set  me  to  lookin'  for  it.;  'thout  it  was  when 
missus  died." 

"She  said,  one  could  find  comfort  in  the  Bible," 
Esther  went  on ;  with  a  tender  thrill  in  the  voice 
that  uttered  the  beloved  pronoun. 

"Most  likely  it's  so,  Miss  Esther.  What  my 
mistress  said  was  sure  and  certain  true;  but  myself, 
it  is  something  which  I  have  no  knowledge  of." 

"How  do  you  suppose  one  could  find  comfort 


112  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

in  the  Bible,  Barker?     How  should  one  look  for 
it?" 

'  'Deed,  Miss  Esther,  your  questions  is  too  hard 
for  me.  I'd  ask  the  colonel,  if  I  was  you." 

"  But  I  ask  you, — if  you  can  tell  me." 

"  And  that's  just  which  I  airit  wise  enough  for. 
But  when  I  don't  know  where  a  thing  is,  Miss 
Esther,  I  allays  begins  at  one  end  and  goes  clean 
through  to  the  other  end;  and  then,  if  the  thing 
aint  there,  why  I  knows  it;  and  if  it  is  there,  I  gets 
it." 

"  It  would  take  a  good  while,"  said  Esther  mus 
ingly,  "  to  go  through  the  whole  Bible  from  one  end 
to  the  other." 

"That's  which  I  am  thinkin',  Miss  Esther.  I'm 
thinkin'  one  might  forget  what  one  started  to  look 
for,  before  one  found  it.  But  there!  the  Bible  aint 
just  like  a  store  closet,  neither;  with  all  the  things 
ticketed  on  shelves.  I'm  thinkin',  a  body  must 
do  summat  besides  look  in  it." 

"What?" 

"I  don't  know,  Miss  Esther — I  aint  wise,  no 
sort  o'  way,  in  sich  matters, — but  I  was  thinkin' — 
the  folks  I've  seen,  as  took  comfort  in  their  Bibles, 
they  was  allays  saints." 

"  Saints !     What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  That's  what  they  was,"  said  Barker  decidedly. 
"  They  was  saints.  I  never  was  no  saint  myself, 
but  I've  seen  'em.  You  see,  mum,  I've  ullays  had 
summat  else  on  my  mind,  and  my  hands,  I  may 
say;  and  one  can't  attend  to  more'n  one  thing  at 


WANT  OF  COMFORT.  113 

once  in  this  world.  I've  allays  had  my  bread  to 
get  and  my  mistress  to  serve;  and  I've  attended  to 
my  business  and  done  it.  That's  which  I've  done." 

"  Couldn't  you  do  that  and  be  a  saint  too  ?  " 

"  There's  no  one  can't  be  two  different  people  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  Miss  Esther.  Which  I  would 
say,  if  there  is,  it  aint  me." 

If  this  was  not  conclusive,  at  least  it  was  unan 
swerable  by  Esther;  and  the  subject  was  dropped. 
Whether  Esther  pursued  the  search  after  comfort, 
no  one  knew;  indeed  no  one  knew  she  wanted  it. 
The  colonel  certainly  not;  he  had  taken  her  ques 
tion  to  be  merely  a  speculative  one.  It  did  some 
times  occur  to  Barker  that  her  young  charge  moped ; 
or  as  she  expressed  it  to  Mr.  Bounder,  "  didn't  live 
as  a  child  had  a  right  to."  ;  but  it  was  not  her  busi 
ness;  and  she  had  spoken  truly;  her  business  was 
the  thing  Mrs.  Barker  minded  exclusively. 

So  Esther  went  on  living  alone,  and  working  her 
way,  as  she  could,  alone,  out  of  all  the  problems  that 
suggested  themselves  to  her  childish  mind.  What 
sort  of  a  character  would  grow  up  in  this  way,  in 
such  a  close  mental  atmosphere  and  such  absence 
of  all  training  or  guiding  influences,  was  an  inter 
esting  question,  which  however  never  presented 
itself  before  Col.  Gainsborough's  mind.  That  his 
child  was  all  right,  he  was  sure;  indeed  how  could 
she  go  wrong  ?  She  was  her  mother's  daughter,  in 
the  first  place;  and  in  the  next  place,  his  own; 
noblesse  oblige,  in  more  ways  than  one;  and  then, — 
she  saw  nobody  !  That  was  a  great  safeguard.  But 


114  A  RED   WALLFLOWER. 

the  one  person  whom  Esther  did  see,  out  of  her 
family,  or  I  should  say  the  two  persons,  sometimes 
speculated  about  her;  for  to  them  the  subject  had 
a  disagreeable  practical  interest.  Mr.  Dallas  came 
now  and  then  to  sit  and  have  a  chat  with  the 
colonel;  and  more  rarely  Mrs.  Dallas  called  for  a 
civil  visit  of  enquiry;  impelled  thereto  partly  by 
her  son's  instances  and  reminders.  She  communi 
cated  her  views  to  her  husband. 

"  She  is  living  a  dreadful  life,  for  a  child.  She 
will  be  everything  that  is  unnatural  and  premature." 

Mr.  Dallas  made  no  answer. 

"And  I  wish  she  was  out  of  Seaforth;  for  as  we 
cannot  get  rid  of  her  we  must  send  away  our  own 
boy." 

"Humph!"  said  her  husband.  "Are  you  sure? 
Is  that  a  certain  necessity  ?  " 

"  Hildebrand,  you  would  like  to  have  him  finish 
his  studies  at  Oxford  ?  "  said  his  wife  appealingly. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure;  but  what  has  that  to  do  with 
the  other  thing  ?  You  started  from  that  little  girl 
over  there." 

"  Do  you  want  Pitt  to  make  her  his  wife?  " 

"  No  !  " — with  quiet  decision. 

"He'll  do  it;  if  you  do  not  take  all  the  better 
care." 

"  I  don't  see  that  it  follows." 

"  You  do  not  see  it,  Hildebrand,  but  I  do.  Trust 
me." 

"  What  do  you  reason  from  ?  " 

"  You  won't  trust  me.     Well,  the  girl  will  be 


WANT  OF  COMFORT.  115 

very  handsome;  she'll  be  very  handsome;  and  that 
always  turns  a  young  man's  head;  and  then,  you 
see,  she  is  a  forlorn  child,  and  Pitt  has  taken  it  in 
to  his  head  to  replace  father  and  mother  and  be  her 
good  genius.  I  leave  you  to  judge  if  that  is  not 
a  dangerous  part  for  him  to  play.  He  writes  to 
me  every  now  and  then  about  her." 

Not  very  often ;  but  Mrs.  Dallas  wanted  to  scare 
her  husband.  And  so  there  came  to  be  more  and 
more  talk  about  Pitt's  going  abroad;  and  Esther 
felt  as  if  the  one  spot  of  brightness  in  her  sky  were 
closing  up  for  ever.  If  Pitt  did  go, — what  would 
be  left. 

It  was  a  token  of  the  real  strength  and  fine  prop 
erties  of  her  mental  nature,  that  the  girl  did  not, 
in  any  true  sense,  mope.  In  want  of  comfort  she 
was;  in  sad  want  of  social  diversion  and  cheer,  and 
of  variety  in  her  course  of  thought  and  occupation ; 
she  suffered  from  the  want ;  but  Esther  did  not  sink 
into  idleness  and  stagnation.  She  worked  like  a 
beaver;  that  is,  so  far  as  diligence  and  purpose 
characterize  those  singular  animals'  working.  She 
studied  resolutely  and  eagerly  the  things  she  had 
studied  with  Pitt,  and  which  he  had  charged  her 
to  go  on  with.  His  influence  was  a  spur  to  her 
constantly ;  for  he  had  wished  it,  and  he  would  be 
corning  home  by  and  by  for  the  long  vacation,  and 
then  he  would  want  to  see  what  she  had  done. 
Esther  was  not  quite  alone,  so  long  as  she  had  the 
thought  of  Pitt  and  of  that  long  vacation  with  her. 
If  he  should  go  to  England, — then  indeed  it  would 


116  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

be  loneliness.  Now  she  studied,  at  any  rate,  hav 
ing  that  spur;  arid  she  studied  things  also  with 
which  Pitt  had  had  no  connection;  her  Bible  for 
instance.  The  girl  busied  herself  with  fancy  work 
too,  every  kind  which  Mrs.  Barker  could  teach  herand 
her  father  did  not  forbid.  And  in  one  other  pleas 
ure  her  father  was  helpful  to  her.  Esther  had  been 
trying  to  draw  some  little  things,  working  eagerly 
with  her  pencil  and  a  copy,  absorbed  in  her  en 
deavours  and  in  the  delight  of  partial  success;  when 
one  day  her  father  came  and  looked  over  her  shoulder. 
That  was  enough.  Col.  Gainsborough  was  a  great 
draughtsman;  the  old  instinct  of  his  art  stirred  in 
him ;  he  took  Esther's  pencil  from  her  hand  and 
shewed  her  how  she  ought  to  use  it,  arid  then  went 
on  to  make  several  little  studies  for  her  to  work  at. 
From  that  beginning  the  lessons  went  forward,  to 
the  mutual  benefit  of  father  and  daughter.  Es 
ther  developed  a  great  aptitude  for  the  art  and  an 
enormous  zeal.  Whatever  her  father  told  her  it 
would  be  good  for  her  to  do,  in  that  connection, 
Esther  did  untiringly,  ungrudgingly.  It  was  the 
one  exquisite  pleasure  which  each  day  contained 
for  her;  and  into  it  she  gathered  and  poured  her 
whole  natural,  honest,  childlike  desire  for  pleasure. 
No  matter  if  all  the  rest  of  the  day  were  work ;  the 
flower  of  delight  that  blossomed  on  this  one  stern 
was  sweet  enough  to  take  the  place  of  a  whole 
nosegay,  and  it  beautified  Esther's  whole  life.  It 
hardly  made  the  child  less  sober  outwardly,  but  it 
did  much  to  keep  her  inner  life  fresh  and  sound 


WANT  OF  COMFORT.  117 

Pitt  this  time  did  not  allow  it  to  be  supposed 
that  he  had  forgotten  his  friends.  Once  in  a  while 
he  wrote  to  Col.  Gainsborough,  and  sent  a  message 
or  maybe  included  a  little  note  for  Esther  herself. 
These  messages  and  notes  regarded  often  her  studies ; 
but  toward  the  end  of  term  there  began  to  be 
mention  made  of  England  also  in  them ;  and  Esther's 
heart  sank  very  low.  What  would  be  left  when  Pitt 
was  gone  to  England  ? 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    BLESSING. 

SO  spring  came,  and  then  high  summer,  and  the 
time  when  the  collegian  was  expected  home. 
The  roses  were  blossoming  and  the  pinks  were 
sweet,  in  the  old-fashioned  flower  garden  in  front 
of  the  house;  and  the  smell  of  the  hay  came  from 
the  fields  where  mowers  were  busy,  and  the  trill 
of  a  bob-o-link  sounded  in  the  meadow.  It  was 
evening  when  Pitt  made  his  way  from  his  father's 
house  over  to  the  colonel's;  and  he  found  Esther 
sitting  in  the  verandah  with  all  this  sweetness 
about  her.  The  house  was  old  and  country  fash 
ioned;  the  verandah  was  raised  but  a  step  above 
the  ground,  low,  and  with  slim  little  pillars  to  sup 
port  its  roof;  arid  those  pillars  were  all  there  was 
between  Esther  and  the  flowers.  At  one  side  of 
the  house  there  was  a  lawn ;  in  front  the  space  de 
voted  to  the  flowers  was  only  a  small  strip  of 
ground,  bordered  by  the  paling  fence  and  the 
road.  Pitt  opened  a  small  gate  and  came  up  to 
the  house  through  an  array  of  balsams,  hollyhocks, 
roses  and  honeysuckles,  and  balm  and  southern- 
(118) 


•     THE  BLESSING.  119 

wood.  Esther  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  with  her 
book  in  her  hand  stood  awaiting  him.  Her  ap 
pearance  struck  him  as  in  some  sense  new.  She 
looked  pale,  he  thought,  and  the  mental  tension  of 
the  moment  probably  made  it  true,  but  it  was  not 
merely  that.  There  was  a  refined,  ethereal  gravity 
and  beauty,  which  it  is  very  unusual  to  see  in  a  girl 
of  thirteen;  an  expression  too  spiritual  for  years 
which  ought  to  be  full  of  joyous  and  careless  an;- 
mal  life.  Nevertheless  it  was  there,  and  it  struck 
Pitt  not  only  with  a  sense  of  admiration  but  al 
most  with  compassion;  for  what  sort  of  apart  and 
introverted  life  could  it  be  which  had  called  forth 
such  a  look  upon  so  young  a  face?  No  child  liv 
ing  among  children  could  ever  be  like  that;  nor 
any  child  living  among  grown  people  who  took 
proper  care  of  her;  unless  indeed  it  were  an  excep 
tional  case  of  disease,  which  sets  apart  from  the 
whole  world;  but  Esther  was  perfectly  well. 

"  I've  been  watching  for  you,"  she  said  as  she 
gave  him  her  hand,  and  a  very  lovely  smile  of 
welcome.  "  I  have  been  looking  for  you  ever  so 
long." 

I  don't  know  what  made  Pitt  do  it,  and  I  do  not 
think  he  knew;  he  had  never  done  it  before;  but 
as  he  took  the  hand  and  met  the  smile,  he  bent 
down  and  pressed  his  lips  to  those  innocent  smiling 
ones.  I  suppose  it  was  a  very  genuine  expression 
of  feeling;  the  fact  that  he  might  not  know  what 
feeling  is  nothing  to  the  matter. 

Esther  coloured  high,  and  looked  at  him  in  as- 


120  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

tonishment.      It  was  a  flush  that  meant  pleasure 
quite  as  much  as  surprise. 

"  I  came  as  soon  as  I  could,"  he  said. 

"01  knew  you  would!  Sit  down  here,  Pitt; — 
papa  is  sleeping;  he  had  a  headache.  0  I  am  so 
glad  you  have  come  !  " 

"How  is  the  colonel?" 

"  He  says  he's  not  well.     I  don't  know." 

"  And,  Queen  Esther,  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  0  I'm  well." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"  Why  certainly,  Pitt.  What  should  be  the  mat 
ter  with  me  ?  There  is  never  anything  the  matter 
with  me." 

"  I  should  say,  a  little  too  much  thinking,"  said 
Pitt  regarding  her. 

"  0,  but  I  have  to  think,"  said  Esther  soberly. 

"  Not  at  all  necessary,  nor  in  my  opinion  advis 
able.  There  are  other  people  in  the  world  whose 
business  it  is  to  do  the  thinking.  Leave  it  to  them. 
You  cannot  do  it,  besides." 

"  Who  will  do  my  thinking  for  me  ?  "  asked  Es 
ther,  with  a  look  and  a  smile  which  would  have 
better  fitted  twice  her  years;  a  look  of  wistful  in 
quiry,  a  smile  of  soft  derision. 

"  I  will,"  said  Pitt  boldly. 

"Will  you?  0  Pitt,  I  would  like  to  ask  you 
something! — But  not  now,"  she  added  immediately. 
"Another  time.  Now  tell  me  about  college." 

He  did  tell  her.  He  gave  her  details  of  things  he 
told  no  one  else.  He  allowed  her  to  know  of  his 


THE  BLESSING.  121 

successes,  which  Pitt  was  too  genuinely  modest  and 
manly  to  enlarge  upon  even  to  his  father  and  mo 
ther;  but  to  these  childish  eyes  and  this  implicit 
trusting,  loving,  innocent  spirit,  he  gave  the  infi 
nite  pleasure  of  knowing  what  he  had  secretly  en 
joyed  alone,  in  the  depths  of  his  own  mind.  It 
pleased  him  to  share  it  with  Esther.  As  for  her, 
her  interest  and  sympathy  knew  no  bounds. 

Pitt  however,  while  he  was  talking  about  his 
own  doings  and  affairs,  was  thinking  about  Esther. 
She  had  changed,  somehow.  That  wonderful  stage 
of  life,  "  where  the  brook  and  river  meet,"  she  had 
hardly  yet  reached ;  she  was  really  a  little  girl  still, 
or  certainly  ought  to  be.  What  was  then  this  del 
icate,  grave,  spiritual  look  in  the  face,  the  thought 
ful  intelligence,  the  refinement  of  perception,  so 
beyond  her  years?  No  doubt  it  was  due  to  her 
living  alone  with  a  somewhat  gloomy  father,  and 
being  prematurely  thrown  upon  a  woman's  needs 
and  a  woman's  resources.  Pitt  recognized  the  fact 
that  his  own  absence  might  have  had  something 
to  do  with  it.  So  long  as  he  had  been  with  her, 
teaching  her  and  making  a  daily  breeze  in  her 
still  life,  Esther  had  been  in  a  measure  drawn  out 
of  herself  and  kept  from  brooding.  And  then,  be 
yond  all,  the  natural  organization  of  this  fine  crea 
ture  was  of  the  rarest;  strong  and  delicate  at  once, 
of  large  capacities  and  with  correspondingly  large 
requirements;  able  for  great  enjoyment,  and  open 
also  to  keen  suffering.  He  could  see  it  in  every 
glance  of  the  big  thoughtful  eyes,  and  every  play 


122  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

of  the  sensitive  lips;  which  had  however  a  trait 
of  steadfastness  arid  grave  character  along  with 
their  sensitiveness.  Pitt  looked,  and  wondered, 
and  admired.  This  child's  face  was  taking  on 
already  a  fascinating  power  of  expression,  quite 
beyond  her  years;  and  that  was  because  the  inner 
life  was  developing  too  soon  into  thoughtfulness 
and  tenderness  and  too  early  realizing  the  meaning 
of  life.  Nothing  could  be  more  innocent  of  self- 
consciousness  than  Esther;  she  did  not  even  know 
that  Pitt  was  regarding  her  with  more  attention 
than  ordinary,  or  if  she  knew,  she  took  it  as  quite 
natural.  He  saw  that,  and  so  indulged  himself. 
What  a  creature  this  would  be,  by  and  by !  But 
in  the  mean  time,  what  was  to  become  of  her? 
Without  a  mother,  or  a  sister,  or  a  brother;  all 
alone ;  with  nobody  near  who  even  knew  what  she 
needed;  what  would  become  of  her?  It  was  not 
stagnation  that  was  to  be  feared,  but  too  vivid 
life;  not  that  she  would  be  mentally  stunted,  but 
that  the  growth  would  be  to  exhaustion,  or  lack 
the  right  hardening  processes  and  so  be  unhealthy. 
The  colonel  awoke  after  a  while,  and  welcomed 
his  visiter  as  truly  if  not  as  warmly  as  Esther  had 
done.  He  always  had  liked  young  Dallas;  and 
now  after  so  long  living  alone  the  sight  of  him 
was  specially  grateful.  Pitt  must  stay  and  have 
tea;  and  the  talk  between  him  and  the  colonel 
went  on  unflaggingly.  Esther  said  nothing  now ; 
but  Pitt  watched  her  and  saw  how  she  listened; 
saw  how  her  eyes  accompanied  him  and  her  lips 


THE   BLESSING.  123 

gave  their  silent  tokens  of  understanding.  Mean 
while  she  poured  out  tea  for  the  gentlemen ;  did  it 
with  quiet  grace  and  neatness,  and  was  quick  to  see 
and  attend  to  any  little  occasion  for  hospitable  care. 

The  old  life  began  again  now  in  good  measure. 
Esther  had  no  need  to  beg  Pitt  to  come  often ;  he 
came  constantly.  He  took  up  her  lessons,  as  of 
old,  and  carried  them  on  vigorously;  rightly  think 
ing  that  good  sound  mental  work  was  wholesome 
for  the  child.  He  joined  her  in  drawing,  and 
begged  the  colonel  to  give  him  instruction  too; 
and  they  studied  the  coins  in  the  boxes  with  fresh 
zeal.  And  they  had  glorious  walks,  and  most 
delightful  botanizing,  in  the  early  summer  morn 
ings  or  when  the  sun  had  got  low  in  the  western 
sky.  Sometimes  Pitt  came  with  a  little  wagon  and 
took  Esther  a  drive.  It  was  all  delight;  I  cannot 
tell  which  thing  gave  her  most  pleasure.  To  study 
with  Pitt,  or  to  play  with  Pitt,  one  was  as  good  as 
the  other;  and  the  summer  days  of  that  summer 
were  not  fuller  of  fruit-ripening  sun,  than  of 
blessed,  warm,  healthy  and  happy  influences  for 
this  little  human  plant.  Her  face  grew  bright  and 
joyous,  though  in  moments  when  the  talk  took  a 
certain  sober  tone  Pitt  could  see  the  light  or  the 
shadow,  he  hardly  knew  which  to  call  it,  of  that 
too  early  spiritual  insight  and  activity  come  over  it. 

One  day,  soon  after  his  arrival,  he  asked  her 
what  she  had  been  thinking  about  so  much.  They 
were  sitting  on  the  verandah  again,  to  be  out  of 
the  way  of  the  colonel;  they  were  taking  up  les- 


124  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

sons,  and  had  just  finished  an  examination  in  his 
tory.  Pitt  let  the  book  fall. 

"  You  said  the  other  day,  Queen  Esther,  that  you 
were  under  the  necessity  of  thinking.  May  I  ask, 
what  you  have  been  thinking  about  ?  " 

"Did  I  say  that?" 

"  Something  like  it." 

Esther's  face  became  sober.  "Everybody  must 
think,  I  suppose,  Pitt?" 

"That  is  a  piece  of  your  innocence.  A  great 
many  people  get  along  quite  comfortably  without 
doing  any  thinking  at  all." 

"One  might  as  well  be  a  squash,"  said  Esther 
gravely.  "  I  don't  see  how  they  can  live  so." 

"  Some  people  think  too  much." 

"Why?" 

"I  don't  know  why,  I  am  sure.  It's  their  na 
ture,  I  suppose." 

"  What  harm,  Pitt  ?  " 

"You  keep  a  fire  going  anywhere,  and  it  will 
burn  up  what  is  next  to  it." 

"  Is  thought  like  fire  ?  " 

"  So  far,  it  is.  What  were  you  thinking  about, 
Queen  Esther  ?  " 

"  I  had  been  wanting  to  ask  you  about  it,  Pitt," 
the  girl  said,  a  little  with  the  air  of  one  who  is 
rousing  herself  up  to  give  a  confidence.  "  I  was 
looking  for  something — and  I  did  not  know  where 
to  find  it." 

"Looking  for  what?" 

"I  remembered,  mamma  said  people  could  al- 


THE  BLESSING.  125 

ways  find  comfort  in  the  Bible;  but  I  did  not  know 
how  to  look  for  it." 

"  Comfort,  Queen  Esther! "  said  Pitt,  rousing  him 
self  now; — "you  were  not  in  want  of  that  article, 
were  you  ?  " 

"After  you  were  gone,  you  know — I  hadn't 
anybody  left.  And  0,  Pitt,  are  you  going  to — 
England  ?  " 

"  One  thing  at  a  time.  Tell  me  about  this  ex 
traordinary  want  of  comfort,  at  twelve  years  old. 
That  is  improper,  Queen  Esther  !  " 

"  Why  ?  "  she  said,  casting  up  to  him  a  pair  of 
such  wistful,  sensitive,  beautiful  eyes,  that  the 
young  man  was  almost  startled. 

"  People  at  your  age  ought  to  have  comfort 
enough  to  give  away  to  other  people." 

"  I  shouldn't  think  they  could,  always,"  said  Es 
ther  quaintly. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

Esther  looked  down,  a  little  uneasily.  She  felt 
that  Pitt  ought  to  have  known.  And  he  did  know; 
however,  he  thought  it  advisable  to  have  things 
brought  out  into  the  full  light  and  put  into  form; 
hoping  they  might  so  be  easier  dealt  with.  Esther's 
next  words  were  hardly  consecutive,  although  per 
fectly  intelligible. 

"  I  know,  of  course  you  cannot  stay  here  always." 

"  Of  course.  But  then,  I  shall  always  be  coming 
back." 

Esther  sighed.  She  was  thinking  that  the  ab 
sences  were  long  and  the  times  of  being  at  home 


126  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

short;  but  what  was  the  use  of  talking  about  it? 
That  lesson,  that  words  do  not  change  the  inevita 
ble,  she  had  already  learned.  Pitt  was  concerned. 

"  Where  did  you  say  your  highness  went  to  look 
for  comfort?" 

"  In  the  Bible.  0  yes,  that  was  what  I  wanted 
your  help  about.  I  did  not  know  how  to  look;  and 
papa  said  he  didn't ;  or  I  don't  know  if  he  said  ex 
actly  that,  but  it  came  to  the  same  thing.  And 
then  I  asked  Barker." 

"  Was  she  any  wiser  ?  " 

"  No.  She  said  her  way  of  finding  anything  was 
to  begin  at  one  end  and  go  through  to  the  other ; 
so  I  tried  that.  I  began  at  the  beginning;  and  I 
read  on ;  but  I  found  nothing  until — I'll  shew  you," 
she  said,  suddenly  breaking  off  and  darting  away; 
and  in  two  minutes  more  she  came  back  with  her 
Bible.  She  turned  over  the  leaves  eagerly. 

"  Here,  Pitt, — I  came  to  this.  Now  what  does 
it  mean  ?  " 

She  gave  him  the  volume  open  at  the  sixth  chap 
ter  of  Numbers ;  in  the  end  of  which  is  the  prescribed 
form  for  the  blessing  of  the  children  of  Israel.  Pitt 
read  the  words  to  himself. — 

"The  Lord  bless  thee,  and  keep  thee. 

"  The  Lord  make  his  face  shine  upon  thee,  and  be 
gracious  unto  thee. 

"The  Lord  lift  up  his  countenance  upon  thee, 
and  give  thee  peace." 

Esther  waited  till  she  saw  he  had  read  them 
through. 


THE  BLESSING.  127 

"Now  Pitt,  what  does  that  mean?" 

"Which?" 

"That  last; — 'The  Lord  lift  up  his  countenance 
upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace.'  What  does  '  lift 
up  his  countenance  upon  thee '  mean  ?  " 

What  did  it  mean  ?  Pitt  asked  himself  the  ques 
tion  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  He  was  quite 
silent. 

"  You  see,"  said  Esther  quaintly,  after  a  pause, 
— "you  see,  that  would  be  comfort." 

Pitt  was  still  silent. 

"  Do  you  understand  it,  Pitt  ?  " 

"  Understand  it,  Esther ! "  he  said  knitting  his 
brows, — "No.  Nobody  could  do  that,  except — 
the  people  that  had  it.  But  I  think  I  see  what  it 
means." 

"  The  people  '  that  had  it '  ?     That  had  what  ?  " 

"  This  wonderful  thing." 

"  What  wonderful  thing  ?  " 

"  Queen  Esther,  you  ought  to  ask  your  father." 

"  I  can't  ask  papa,"  said  the  little  girl.  "  If  ever 
I  speak  to  him  of  comfort,  he  thinks  directly  of 
mamma.  I  cannot  ask  him  again." 

"And  I  am  all  your  dependence?"  he  said  half 
lightly. 

"  I  mustn't  depend  upon  you  either.  Only,  now 
you  are  here,  I  thought  I  would  ask  you." 

"  You  ought  to  have  a  better  counsellor.  How- 
ever<  perhaps  I  can  tell  what  you  want  to  know,  in 
part.  Queen  Esther,  was  your  mother,  or  your  fa 
ther,  ever  seriously  displeased  with  you  ?  " 


128  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Esther  reflected,  a  little  astonished,  and  then 
said  no. 

"  I  suppose  not !  "  said  Pitt.  "  Then  you  don't 
know  by  experience  what  it  would  be,  to  have 
either  of  them  refuse  to  look  at  you  or  smile  upon 
you?  hide  their  face  from  you,  in  short?" 

"Why  no!  never." 

"You're  a  happy  girl." 

"  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  it?  " 

"Nothing  to  do  with  it;  it  is  the  very  contrast 
and  opposite,  in  fact.  Don't  you  see  ?  *  Lift  up 
the  light  of  thy  countenance;' — you  know  what 
the  '  light '  of  a  smiling,  loving  face  of  approval  is  ? 
You  know  that,  Queen  Esther  ?  " 

"  That  ?  "  repeated  Esther  breathlessly.  "  Yes,  I 
know;  but  this  is  God?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  do  not  understand ;  but  that  is  what 
it  means." 

"  You  don't  understand  !  " 

"  No.  How  should  I  ?  But  that  is  what  it 
means.  Something  that  answers  to  what  among 
us  a  bright  face  of  love  is,  when  it  smiles  upon  us. 
That  is  'light,'  isn't  it?" 

"Yes?"  said  Esther.  "But  how  can  this  be, 
Pitt?" 

"  I  cannot  tell.  But  that  is  what  it  means.  '  The 
Lord  make  his  face  to  shine  upon  thee' — They 
are  very  fine  words." 

"  Then  I  suppose,"  said  Esther  slowly,  "  if  any 
body  had  that,  he  wouldn't  want  comfort  ?  " 

"  He  wouldn't  be  without  it,  you  mean  ?     Well, 


THE  BLESSING.  129 

I  should  think  he  would  not.  '  The  Lord  lift  np  his 
countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace.' " 

"  But  I  don't  understand,  Pitt." 

"  No,  Queen  Esther.  This  is  something  beyond 
you  and  me." 

"  How  can  one  come  to  understand  ?  " 

Pitt  was  silent  a  minute,  looking  down  at  the 
words.  "  I  do  not  know,"  he  said.  "  That  is  a 
question.  It  is  a  look  of  favour  and  love  described 
here;  but  of  course  it  would  not  give  peace,  unless 
the  person  receiving  it  knew  he  had  it.  How  that 
can  be,  I  do  not  see." 

Both  were  silent  a  little  while. 

"  Well,"  said  Esther,  "  you  have  given  me  a 
great  deal  of  help." 

"How?" 

"  0  you  have  told  me  what  this  means,"  said  the 
child,  hanging  over  the  words,  which  Pitt  still  held. 

"That  does  not  give  it  to  you." 

"  No ;  but  it  is  a  great  deal,  to  know  what  it  means," 
said  Esther,  in  a  tone  which  Pitt  felt  had  a  good 
element  of  hopefulness  in  it. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  " 

Esther  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  him.  It 
was  one  of  those  looks  which  were  older  than  her 
years;  far-reaching,  spiritual,  with  an  intense  mix 
ture  of  pathos  and  hope  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  shall  go  on  trying  to  get  it,"  she  said.  "  You 
know,  Pitt,  it  is  different  with  you.  You  go  out 
into  the  world,  and  you  have  everything  you  want; 
but  I  am  here  quite  alone." 


CHAPTEE  XL 

DISSENT. 

THE  summer  months  were  very  rich  in  pleasure, 
for  all  parties;  even  Col.  Gainsborough  was 
a  little  roused  by  the  presence  of  his  young  friend 
and  came  much  more  than  usual  out  of  his  reserve. 
So  that  the  conversations  round  the  tea-table,  when 
Pitt  made  one  of  their  number,  were  often  lively 
and  varied;  such  as  Esther  had  hardly  known  in 
her  life  before.  The  colonel  left  off  his  taciturnity; 
waked  up  as  it  were;  told  old  campaigning  stories, 
and  gave  out  stores  of  information  which  few  peo 
ple  knew  he  possessed.  The  talks  were  delightful, 
on  subjects  natural  and  scientific,  historical  and 
local  and  picturesque.  Esther  luxuriated  in  the 
new  social  life  which  had  blossomed  out  suddenly 
at  home,  perhaps  with  even  an  intensified  keen  en 
joyment  from  the  fact  that  it  was  so  transient  a 
blossoming;  a  fact  which  the  child  knew  and  never 
for  a  moment  forgot.  The  thought  was  always 
with  her,  making  only  more  tender  and  keen  the 
taste  of  every  day's  delights.  And  Pitt  made  the 
days  fall.  With  a  mixture  of  motives,  perhaps, 
(130) 


DISSENT.  131 

which  his  own  mind  did  not  analyze,  he  devoted 
himself  very  much  to  the  lonely  little  girl.  She 
went  with  him  in  his  walks  and  in  his  drives;  he 
sat  on  the  verandah  with  her  daily  and  gave  her 
lessons,  and  almost  daily  he  went  in  to  tea  with 
her  afterwards,  arid  said  that  Christopher  grew  the 
biggest  raspberries  in  "  town."  Pitt  professed  him 
self  very  fond  of  raspberries.  And  then  would  come 
one  of  thpse  rich  talks  between  him  and  the  colonel; 
and  when  Pitt  went  home  afterwards  he  would  re 
flect  with  satisfaction  that  he  had  given  Esther 
another  happy  day.  It  was  true;  and  he  never 
guessed  what  heart-aches  the  little  girl  went 
through,  night  after  night,  in  anticipation  of  the 
days  that  were  coming.  She  did  not  shed  tears 
about  it,  usually;  tears  might  have  been  more 
wholesome.  Instead,  Esther  would  stand  at  her 
window  looking  out  into  the  moonlit  garden,  or  sit 
on  the  edge  of  her  bed  staring  down  at  the  floor; 
with  a  dry  ache  at  her  heart,  such  as  we  are  wont 
to  say  a  young  thing  like  her  should  not  know. 
And  indeed  only  one  here  and  there  has  a  nature 
deep  and  fine-strung  enough  to  be  susceptible  of  it. 
The  intensification  of  this  pain  was  the  approach 
ing  certainty  that  Pitt  was  going  to  England.  Es 
ther  did  not  talk  of  it,  rarely  asked  a  question; 
nevertheless  she  heard  enough  now  and  then  to 
make  her  sure  what  was  corning.  And  in  fact 
if  anything  had  been  wanting  to  sharpen  up  Mrs. 
Dallas's  conviction  that  such  a  step  was  necessary, 
it  would  have  been  the  experience  of  this  summer. 


132  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

She  wrought  upon  her  husband,  till  himself  began 
to  prick  up  his  ears  and  open  his  eyes;  and  between 
them  they  agreed  that  Pitt  had  better  go.  Some 
evils  are  easier  nipped  in  the  bud;  and  this  surely 
was  one,  for  Pitt  was  known  to  be  a  persistent  fel 
low,  if  once  he  took  a  thing  in  his  head.  And 
though  Mr.  Dallas  laughed,  at  the  same  time  he 
trembled.  It  was  resolved  that  Pitt  should  make 
his  next  term  at  Oxford.  The  thought  was  not  for 
a  moment  to  be  entertained,  that  all  Mr.  Dallas's 
money  and  all  the  pretensions  properly  growing 
out  of  it,  should  be  wasted  on  the  quite  penniless 
daughter  of  a  retired  army  officer.  For  in  this 
world  the  singular  rule  obtaining  is,  that  the  more 
you  have  the  more  you  want. 

One  day  Pitt  came,  as  he  still  often  did,  to  read 
with  the  colonel ;  more  for  the  pleasure  of  the  thing 
and  for  the  colonel's  own  sake,  than  for  any  need 
still  existing.  He  found  the  colonel  alone.  It  was 
afternoon  of  a  warm  day  in  August,  and  Esther 
had  gone  with  Mrs.  Barker  to  get  blackberries  and 
was  'not  yet  returned.  The  air  came  in  faintly 
through  the  open  windows,  a  little  hindered  by  the 
blinds  which  were  drawn  to  moderate  the  light. 

"How  do  you  do,  sir,  to-day?"  the  young  man 
asked,  coining  in  with  something  of  the  moral  ef 
fect  of  a  breeze.  "  This  isn't  the  sort  of  weather  one 
would  like  for  going  on  a  forlorn-hope  expedition." 

"  In  such  an  expedition  it  doesn't  matter  much 
what  weather  you  have,"  said  the  colonel;  "and  I 
do  not  think  it  matters  much  to  me.  I  am  much 


DISSENT.  133 

the  same  in  all  weathers;  only  that  I  think  I  am 
failing  gradually.  Gradually,  but  constantly." 

"You  do  not  shew  it,  colonel." 

"  No,  perhaps  not;  but  I  feel  it." 

"  You  do  not  care  about  hearing  me  read  to-day, 
perhaps  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  do;  it  distracts  me;  but  first  there  is  a 
word  I  want  to  say  to  yon,  Pitt." 

He  did  not  go  on  at  once  to  say  it,  and  the 
young  man  waited  respectfully.  The  colonel 
sighed,  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow  once  or 
twice,  sighed  again. 

"  You  are  going  to  England,  William  ?  " 

"  They  say  so,  sir.  My  father  and  mother  seem 
to  have  set  their  minds  on  it." 

"  Quite  right,  too.  There's  no  place  in  the  world 
like  Oxford  or  Cambridge  for  a  young  man.  Oxford 
or  Cambridge, — which,  William?" 

"  Oxford,  sir,  I  believe." 

"Yes;  that  would  suit  your  father's  views  best. 
How  do  you  expect  to  get  there  ?  Will  you  go 
this  year  ?  " 

"0  yes,  sir;  that  seems  to  be  the  plan.  My  fa 
ther  is  possessed  with  the  fear  that  I  may  grow  to 
be  not  enough  of  an  Englishman — or  too  much  of 
an  American;  I  don't  know  which." 

"  I  think  you  will  be  a  true  Englishman.  Yet 
if  you  live  here  permanently  you  will  have  to 
be  the  other  thing  too.  A  man  owes  it  to  the 
country  of  his  adoption;  and  1  think  your  father 
has  no  thought  of  returning  to  England  himself?" 


134  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"None  at  all,  sir." 

"  How  will  you  go  ?  You  cannot  take  passage 
to  England." 

"  That  can  be  managed  easily  enough.  Probably 
I  should  take  passage  in  a  ship  bound  for  Lisbon; 
from  there  1  could  make  my  way  somehow  to 
London." 

For,  it  may  be  mentioned,  the  time  was  the  time 
of  the  last  American  struggle  with  England,  early 
in  the  century;  and  the  high  seas  were  not  safe 
and  quiet  as  now. 

The  colonel  sighed  again  once  or  twice,  and  re 
peated  that  gesture  with  his  hand  over  his  brow. 

"  I  suppose  there  is  no  telling  how  long  you  will 
be  gone,  if  you  once  go  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  come  home  every  vacation,"  said  Pitt 
lightly.  "But  since  my  father  and  mother  have 
made  up  their  minds  to  that,  I  must  make  up 
mine." 

"  So  you  will  be  gone  years,"  said  the  colonel 
thoughtfully.  "  Years.  I  shall  not  be  here  when 
you  return,  William." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  change  your  habitation, 
sir  ?  "  said  the  young  man,  though  he  knew  what 
the  other  meant  well  enough. 

"  Not  for  any  other  upon  earth,"  said  the  colonel 
soberly.  "  But  I  shall  not  be  here,  William.  I 
am  failing  constantly.  Slowly,  if  you  please,  but 
constantly.  I  am  not  as  strong  as  I  look,  and  I  am 
far  less  well  than  your  father  believes.  I  should 
know  best;  and  I  know  I  am  failing.  If  you  re- 


DISSENT.  135 

main  in  England  three  years,  or  even  two  years, 
when  you  come  back  I  shall  not  be  here." 

u  I  hope  you  are  mistaken,  colonel." 

"  I  am  not  mistaken." 

There  was  silence  a  few  minutes.  Pitt  did  not 
place  unqualified  trust  in  this  judgment,  even  al 
though,  as  he  could  not  deny,  the  colonel  might  be 
supposed  to  know  best.  He  doubted  the  truth  of 
the  prognostication ;  yet  on  the  other  hand  he  could 
not  be  sure  that  it  was  false.  What  if  it  were  not 
false  ? 

"I  hope  you  are  mistaken,  colonel,"  he  said 
again ;  "  but  if  you  are  right, — if  it  should  be  so  as 
you  fear — " 

"  I  do  not  fear  it,"  put  in  the  colonel,  inter 
rupting  him. 

"  Not  for  yourself;  but  if  it  should  be  so, — what 
will  become  of  Esther  ?  " 

"  It  was  of  her  I  wished  to  speak.  She  will  be 
here." 

"  Here  in  this  house  ?     She  would  be  alone." 

"  I  should  be  away.  But  Mrs.  Barker  would  look 
after  her." 

"  Barker !  "  Pitt  echoed.  "  Yes,  Mrs.  Barker 
could  take  care  of  the  house  and  of  the  cooking,  as 
she  does  now;  but  Esther  would  be  entirely  alone, 
colonel." 

"  I  have  no  one  else  to  leave  her  with,"  said  the 
colonel  gloomily. 

"  Let  my  mother  take  charge  of  her,  in  such  a 
case.  My  mother  would  take  care  of  her,  as  if 


136  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Esther  were  her  own.     Let  her  come  to  my  mother, 
colonel !  " 

"No,"  said  the  colonel  quietly,  "that  would  not 
be  best.  I  am  sure  of  Mrs.  Dallas's  kindness;  but 
I  shall  leave  Esther  under  the  care  of  Barker  and 
her  brother.  Christopher  will  manage  the  place, 
and  keep  everything  right  outside;  and  Barker  will 
do  her  part  faithfully.  Esther  will  be  safe  enough 
so,  for  a  while.  She  is  a  child  yet.  But  then, 
William,  I'll  take  a  promise  from  you",  if  you  will 
give  it." 

"I  will  give  any  promise  you  like,  sir.  What  is 
it?"  said  Pitt,  who  had  never  been  in  a  less  pleas 
ant  mood  towards  his  friend.  In  fact  he  was  en 
tirely  out  of  patience  with  him.  "  What  promise 
do  you  want,  colonel  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"When  you  come  back  from  England,  Will,  if 
I  am  no  longer  here,  I  want  you  to  ask  Esther  for 
a  sealed  package  of  papers,  which  I  shall  leave  with 
her.  Then  open  the  package;  and  the  promise  I 
want  from  you  is  that  you  will  do  according  to  the 
wishes  you  will  find  there  expressed." 

Pitt  looked  at  the  colonel  in  much  astonishment. 
"  May  I  not  know  what  those  wishes  regard,  sir  ?  " 

"They  will  regard  all  I  leave  behind  me." 

There  was  in  the  tone  of  the  colonel's  voice  and 
the  manner  of  utterance  of  his  words,  something 
which  shewed  Pitt  that  further  explanations  were 
not  to  be  had  from  him.  He  hesitated,  not  liking 
to  bind  himself  to  anything  in  the  dark;  but  finally 
he  gave  the  promise  as  required.  He  went  home 


DISSENT.  137 

however  in  a  doubtful  mood,  as  regarded  himself, 
and  a  very  impatient  one  as  concerned  the  colonel. 
What  ridiculous,  precise  notion  was  this,  that  had 
got  possession  of  him  ?  How  little  was  he  able  to 
comprehend  the  nature  or  the  needs  of  his  little 
daughter;  and  what  disagreeable  office  might  he 
have  laid  upon  Pitt  in  that  connection  ?  Pitt  re 
volved  these  things  in  a  fever  of  impatience  with 
the  colonel,  who  had  demanded  such  a  pledge  from 
him,  and  with  himself  who  had  given  it.  "  I  have 
been  a  fool  for  once  in  my  life !  "  thought  he. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas  were  in  the  sitting  room, 
where  Pitt  went  in.  They  had  been  watching  for 
his  return,  though  they  took  care  not  to  tell  him 
so. 

*' How's  your  friend  the  colonel  to-day?"  his 
father  asked,  willing  to  make  sure  where  his  son 
had  been. 

"He  thinks  he  is  dying,"  Pitt  answered,  in  no 
very  good  humour. 

'He  has  been  thinking  that  for  the  last  two 
years." 

"  Do  you  suppose  there  is  anything  in  it  ?  " 

"  Nothing  but  megrims.  He's  hipped,  that's  all. 
If  he  had  some  work  to  do,  that  he  must  do,  I  mean, 
it's  my  belief  he  would  be  a  well  man  to-day;  and 
know  it,  too." 

"  He  honestly  thinks  he's  dying.  Slowly,  of 
course,  but  surely." 

"  Pity  he  ever  left  the  army,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas. 
"  He  is  one  of  those  men  who  don't  bear  to  be  idle." 


138  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"That's  all  humankind ! "  said  her  husband.  "No 
body  bears  to  be  idle.  Can't  do  it,  without  running 
down." 

"Still,"  said  Pitt  thoughtfully,  "you  cannot  tell. 
A  man  ought  to  be  the  best  judge  of  his  own  feel 
ings;  and  perhaps  Col.  Gainsborough  is  ill,  as  he 
says." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  "  said  his 
father  with  a  half  sneer. 

"  Nothing;  only,  if  he  should  turn  out  to  be  right, 
— if  he  should  die  within  a  year  or  two,  what  would 
become  of  his  little  daughter  ?  " 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas  exchanged  a  scarcely  percep 
tible  glance. 

"  Send  her  home  to  his  family,"  answered  the 
former. 

"  Has  he  a  family  in  England  ?  " 

"  So  he  says.     I  judge,  not  a  small  one." 

"  Not  parents  living,  has  he  ?  " 

"I  believe  not;  but  there  are  Gainsboroughs 
enough  without  that." 

"  What  ever  made  him  come  over  here  ?  " 

"  Some  property  quarrel,  I  gather,  though  the 
colonel  never  told  me  in  so  many  words." 

"Then  he  might  not  like  to  send  Esther  to  them. 
Property  quarrels  are  embittering." 

"  Do  you  know  any  sort  of  quarrel  that  isn't  ?  It 
is  impossible  to  say  beforehand  what  Col.  Gains 
borough  might  like  to  do.  He's  a  fidgety  man. 
If  there's  a  thing  I  hate,  in  the  human  line,  it's  a 
fidget.  You  can't  reason  with  'em." 


DISSENT.  139 

"  Then  what  would  become  of  that  child,  mother, 
if  her  father  were  really  to  die  ?  " 

Pitt  spoke  now  with  a  little  anxiety;  but  Mrs. 
Dallas  answered  coolly. 

"He  would  make  the  necessary  arrangements." 

"  But  they  have  no  friends  here,  and  no  relations. 
It  would  be  dreadfully  forlorn  for  her.  Mother,  if 
Col.  Gainsborough  should  die,  wouldn't  it  be  kind 
if  you  were  to  take  her  ?" 

"Too  kind,"  said  Mr.  Dallas.  "There  is  such  a 
thing  as  being  too  kind,  Pitt.  Did  you  never  hear 
of  it?" 

"  I  do  not  comprehend,  sir.  What  objection 
could  there  be?  The  child  is  not  a  common  child; 
she  is  one  that  anybody  might  like  to  have  in  the 
house.  I  should  think  you  and  my  mother  might 
enjoy  it  very  much,  especially  with  me  away." 

"  Especially  " — said  the  elder  man  dryly.  "  Well, 
Pitt,  perhaps  you  are  right;  but  for  me  there  is  this 
serious  objection,  that  she  is  a  dissenter." 

"  A  dissenter !  "  echoed  Pitt  in  unfeigned  aston 
ishment.  "  What  is  a  '  dissenter,'  here  in  the  new 
country  ?  " 

"  Very  much  the  same  thing  that  he  is  in  the 
old  country,  I  suspect." 

"And  what  is  that,  sir?  " 

"  Humph! — well,  don't  you  know?  Narrow,  un 
derbred,  and  pig-headed,  and  with  that,  disgustingly 
radical.  That  is  what  it  means  to  be  a  dissenter; 
always  did  mean." 

"  Underbred  !     You  cannot  find,  old  country  or 


140  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

new  country,  a  better  bred  man  than  Col.  Gains 
borough;  and  Esther  is  perfect  in  her  manners." 

"I  haven't  tried  her"  said  the  other;  "but  isn't 
he  pig-headed  ?  And  isn't  he  radical,  think  you  ? 
They  all  are;  they  always  were;  from  the  days  of 
Cromwell  and  Ireton." 

"  But  the  child  ? — Esther  knows  nothing  of 
politics." 

"  It's  in  the  blood,"  said  Mr.  Dallas  stroking  un- 
moveably  his  long  whiskers.  "It's  in  the  blood. 
I'll  have  no  dissenters  in  my  house.  It  is  fixed  in 
the  blood,  and  will  not  wash  out." 

"I  don't  believe  she  knows  what  a  dissenter 
means." 

"  Your  father  is  quite  right,"  put  in  Mrs.  Dallas. 
"  I  should  not  like  a  dissenter  in  my  family.  I 
should  not  know  how  to  get  on  with  her.  In 
chance  social  intercourse  it  does  not  so  much  mat 
ter — though  I  feel  the  difference  even  there;  but 
in  the  family — .  It  is  always  best  for  like  to  keep 
to  like." 

"  But  these  are  only  differences  of  form,  mother." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  drawing 
up  her  handsome  person.  "  I  believe  in  form,  Pitt, 
for  my  part;  and  when  you  get  to  England  you 
will  find  that  it  is  only  the  nobodies  who  dispense 
with  it.  But  the  Church  is  more  than  Form,  I 
should  think.  You'll  find  the  Archbishop  of  Can 
terbury  is  something  besides  a  form.  And  is  our 
Liturgy  a  form  ?  " 

Pitt  escaped  from  the  discussion,  half  angry  and 


DISSENT.  141 

half  amused,  but  seriously  concerned  about  Esther. 
And  meanwhile  Esther  was  having  her  own  thoughts. 
She  had  come  home  from  her  blackberrying  late,  af 
ter  Pitt  had  gone  home ;  and  a  little  further  on  in  the 
afternoon  she  had  followed  him,  to  get  her  daily  les 
son.  As  the  weather  was  warm  all  windows  were 
standing  open;  and  the  talkers  within  the  house  be 
ing  somewhat  eager  and  preoccupied  in  their  minds, 
did  not  moderate  their  voices  nor  pay  any  attention 
to  what  might  be  going  on  outside ;  and  so  it  hap 
pened  that  Esther's  light  step  was  not  heard  as  it 
came  past  the  windows ;  and  it  followed  very  easily 
that  one  or  two  half  sentences  came  to  her  ear. 
She  heard  her  own  name,  which  drew  her  attention, 
and  then  Mr.  Dallas's  declaration  that  he  would 
have  no  dissenters  in  his  house.  Esther  paused,  not 
certainly  to  listen,  but  with  a  sudden  check  arising 
from  something  in  the  tone  of  the  words.  As  she 
stood  still  in  doubt  whether  to  go  forward  or  not, 
a  word  or  two  more  were  spoken,  and  also  heard; 
and  with  that,  Esther  turned  short  about,  left  all 
thought  of  her  lesson,  and  made  her  way  home ; 
walking  rather  faster  than  she  had  come. 

She  laid  off  her  hat,  went  into  the  room  where  • 
her  father  was,  and  sat  down  in  the  window  with 
a  book. 

"  Home  again,  Esther  ?  "  said  he.     "  You  have 
not  been  long  away." 

"No,  papa." 

"  Did  you  have  your  lesson  ?  " 

"No,  papa." 


142  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Pitt  was  talking  to  somebody." 

The  colonel  made  no  further  remark,  and  the 
room  was  very  still  for  awhile.  Until  after  au  hour 
or  more  the  colonel's  book  went  down;  and  then 
Esther  from  her  window  spoke  again. 

"  Papa,  if  you  please,  what  is  a  '  dissenter '  ?  " 

"  A  what  ?  "  demanded  the  colonel,  rousing  him 
self. 

"A  'dissenter,'  papa." 

**  What  do  you  know  about  dissenters  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  papa.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  What  makes  you  ask  ?  " 

"  I  heard  the  word,  papa,  and  I  didn't  know 
what  it  meant." 

"There  is  no  need  you  should  know  what  it 
means.  A  dissenter  is  one  who  dissents." 

"From  what,  sir?" 

"  From  something  that  other  people  believe  in." 

"  But  papa,  according  to  that  then,  everybody  is 
a  dissenter;  and  that  is  not  true,  is  it?" 

"  What  has  put  the  question  into  your  head  ?  " 

"I  heard  somebody  speaking  of  dissenters." 

"Whom?"  . 

"  Mrs.  Dallas." 

"  Ah ! " — The  colonel  smiled  grimly.  "  She  might 
be  speaking  of  you  and  me." 

Esther  knew  that  to  have  been  the  fact,  but  she 
did  not  say  so.  She  only  asked, 

"  What  do  we  dissent  from,  papa." 

"  We  dissent  from  the  notion  that  form  is  more 


DISSENT.  143 

than  substance  and  the  kernel  less  valuable  than 
the  shell." 

This  told  Esther  nothing.  She  was  mystified ;  at 
the  same  time  her  respect  for  her  father  did  not  al 
low  her  to  press  further  a  question  he  seemed  to 
avoid. 

"  Is  Pitt  a  dissenter,  papa  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  need  you  should  trouble  your  head 
with  the  question  of  dissent,  my  child.  In  Eng 
land  there  is  an  Established  church ;  all  who  decline 
to  come  into  it  are  there  called  Dissenters." 

"Does  it  tire  you  to  have  me  ask  questions,  papa?" 

"No." 

"  Who  established  the  church  there  ?  " 

"The  Government." 

"  What  for  ?  " 

"Wanted  to  rule  men's  consciences  as  well  as 
their  bodies." 

"  But  a  government  cannot  do  that,  papa  ?  " 

"They  have  tried,  Esther.  Tried  by  fire  and 
sword,  and  cruelty,  and  persecution ;  by  fines  and 
imprisonments  and  disqualifications.  Some  sub 
mitted,  but  a  goodly  number  dissented;  and  our 
family  has  always  belonged  to  that  honourable 
number.  See  you  do  it  no  discredit.  The  Gains- 
boroughs  were  always  Independents;  we  fought 
with  Cromwell,  and  suffered  under  the  Stuarts. 
We  have  an  unbroken  record  of  striving  for  the 
right.  Keep  to  your  traditions,  my  dear." 

"But  why  should  a  Government  wish  to  rule 
people's  consciences,  papa  ?  " 


144  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Power,  my  dear.  As  long  as  men's  minds  are 
free,  there  is  something  where  power  does  not 
reach." 

"  I  should  think  everybody  would  like  Dissenters, 
papa  ?  "  was  Esther's  simple  conclusion. 

"  Mrs.  Dallas  doesn't,"  said  the  colonel  grimly. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    VACATION. 

rPHE  days  went  too  fast,  as  the  last  half  of  Pitt's 
1  vacation  passed  away.  Ay,  there  was  no  hold 
ing  them,  much  as  Esther  tried  to  make  each  one 
as  long  as  possible.  I  think  Pitt  tried  too;  for  he 
certainly  gave  his  little  friend  and  playmate  all  he 
could  of  pleasure  and  all  he  could  of  himself.  Esther 
shared  everything  he  did,  very  nearly,  that  was  not 
done,  within  his  own  home.  Nothing  could  have 
been  more  delightful  than  those  days  of  August 
and  September,  if  only  the  vision  of  the  end  of 
them  had  not  been  so  near.  That  vision  did  not 
hinder  the  enjoyment;  it  intensified  it;  every  taste 
of  summer  and  social  delight  was  made  keen  with 
that  spice  of  coming  pain;  even  towards  the  very 
last,  nothing  could  prevent  Esther's  enjoyment  of 
every  moment  she  and  Pitt  spent  together.  Only 
to  be  together  was  such  pleasure.  Every  word  he 
spoke  was  good  in  her  ears;  and  to  her  eyes,  every 
feature  of  his  appearance  and  every  movement  of 
his  person  was  comely  and  admirable.  She  gave 
him  in  fact  a  kind  of  grave  worship;  which  perhaps 

(145) 


146  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

nobody  suspected  in  its  degree,  because  it  was  not 
displayed  in  the  manner  of  childish  effusiveness. 
Esther  was  never  effusive;  her  manner  was  always 
quiet,  delicate,  and  dignified,  such  as  a  child's  can 
well  be.  And  so  even  Pitt  himself  did  not  fully 
know  how  his  little  friend  regarded  him ;  though 
he  had  sometimes  a  queer  approach  to  apprehension. 
It  struck  him  now  and  then,  the  grave,  absorbed  look 
of  Esther's  beautiful  eyes;  occasionally  he  caught  a 
flash  of  light  in  them,  such  as  in  nature  only  comes 
from  heavily  charged  clouds.  Always  she  liked  to 
do  what  he  liked,  and  gave  quick  regard  to  any 
expressed  wish  of  his;  always  listened  to  him,  and 
watched  his  doings,  and  admired  his  successes,  with 
the  unconditional  devotion  of  an  unquestioning 
faith.  Pitt  was  half  aware  of  all  this ;  yet  he  was 
at  an  age  when  speculation  is  apt  to  be  more  busy 
with  matters  of  the  head  than  of  the  heart;  and  be 
sides  he  was  tolerably  well  accustomed  to  the  same 
sort  of  thing  at  home,  and  took  it  probably  as  very 
natural  and  quite  in  order.  And  he  knew  well  and 
did  not  forget,  that  to  the  little  lonely  child  his  go 
ing  away  would  be,  even  more  than  it  might  be  to 
his  mother,  the  loss  of  a  great  deal  of  brightness  out 
of  her  daily  life.  He  did  even  dread  it  a  little. 
And  as  the  time  drew  near,  he  saw'  that  his  fears 
were  going  to  be  justified. 

Esther  did  not  lament  or  complain ;  she  never  in 
deed  spoke  of  his  going  at  all;  but  what  was  much 
more  serious,  she  grew  pale.  And  when  the  last 
week  came,  the  smile  died  out  of  her  eyes  and  from 


THE  VACATION.  147 

ofFher  lips.  No  tears  were  visible ;  Pitt  would  almost 
rather  have  seen  her  cry,  like  a  child,  much  as  with 
all  other  men  he  hated  tears;  it  would  have  been 
better  than  this  preternatural  gravity  with  which 
the  large  eyes  opened  at  him  and  the  soft  mouth 
refused  to  give  way.  She  seemed  to  enter  into 
everything  they  were  doing  with  no  less  interest 
than  usual ;  she  was  not  abstracted ;  rather,  Pitt  got 
the  impression  that  she  carried  about  with  her  and 
brought  into  everything  the  perfect  recollection  that 
he  was  going  away.  It  began  to  oppress  him. 

"  I  wish  I  could  feel,  mother,  that  you  would 
look  a  little  after  that  motherless  child,"  he  said  in 
a  sort  of  despairing  attempt  one  evening. 

"She  is  not  fatherless,"  Mrs.  Dallas  answered 
composedly. 

"  No,  but  a  girl  wants  a  mother." 

"  She  is  accustomed  to  the  want  now." 

"  Mother,  it  isn't  kind  of  you  !  " 

"How  would  you  have  me  shew  kindness?"  Mrs. 
Dallas  asked  calmly.  Now  that  Pitt  was  going 
away  and  safe,  she  could  treat  the  matter  without 
excitement.  "What  would  Col.  Gainsborough  like 
me  to  do  for  his  daughter,  do  you  think  ?  " 

Pitt  was  silent,  and  vexed. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  for  her  ?  " 

"I'd  like  you  to  be  a  friend  to  her.  She  will 
need  one." 

"  If  her  father  dies,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  If  he  lives.  She  will  be  very  lonely  when  I  am 
gone  away." 


148  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"That  is  because  you  have  accustomed  her  so 
much  to  your  company.  I  never  thought  it  was 
wise.  She  will  get  over  it  in  a  little  while." 

Would  she  ?  Pitt  studied  her  next  day,  and 
much  doubted  his  mother's  assertion.  All  the 
months  of  his  last  term  in  college  had  not  been 
enough  to  weaken  in  the  least  Esther's  love  for 
him.  It  was  real,  honest,  genuine  love,  and  of 
very  pure  quality;  a  diamond,  he  was  ready  to 
think,  of  the  first  water.  Only  a  child's  love;  but 
Pitt  had  too  fine  a  nature  himself  to  despise  a  child's 
love ;  and  full  as  his  head  was  of  novelties,  hopes 
and  plans  and  purposes,  there  was  space  in  his  heart 
for  a  very  tender  concern  about  Esther  beside. 

It  came  to  the  last  evening,  and  he  was  sitting 
with  her  on  the  verandah.  It  was  rather  cool 
there  now;  the  roses  and  honeysuckles  and  the 
summer  moonshine  were  gone;  the  two  friends 
chose  to  stay  there  because  they  could  be  alone, 
and  nobody  overhear  their  words.  Words  for  a 
little  while  had  ceased  to  flow.  Esther  was  sitting 
very  still,  and  Pitt  knew  how  she  was  looking; 
something  of  the  dry  despair  had  come  back  to 
her  face  which  had  been  in  it  when  he  was  first 
moved  to  busy  himself  about  her. 

"Esther,  I  shall  come  back,"  he  said  suddenly, 
bending  down  to  look  in  her  face. 

"  When  ?  " — she  said,  half  under  her  breath.  It 
was  not  a  question ;  it  was  an  answer. 

"  Well,  not  immediately;  but  the  years  pass  away 
fast,  don't  you  know  that?" 


THE  VACATION.  149 

"  Are  you  sure  you  will  come  back  ?  " 

"  Why  certainly  !— if  I  am  alive  I  will.  Why  if 
I  came  for  nothing  else,  I  would  come  to  see  after 
you,  Queen  Esther." 

Esther  was  silent.     Talking  was  not  easy. 

"And  meanwhile  I  shall  be  busy,  and  you  will 
be  busy.  We  have  both  a  great  deal  to  do." 

"  You  have." 

"  And  I  am  sure  you  have.  Now  let  us  consult. 
What  have  you  got  to  do,  before  we  see  one  an 
other  again  ?  " 

"I  suppose,"  said  Esther,— " take  care  of  papa." 

She  said  it  in  a  quiet,  matter-of-course  tone,  and 
Pitt  started  a  little.  It  was  very  likely!  but  it 
had  not  just  occurred  to  him  before,  how  large  a 
part  that  care  might  play  in  the  girl's  life  for  some 
time  to  come. 

"  Does  he  need  so  much  care  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  isn't  real  care,"  said  Esther  in  the  same  tone ; 
"but  he  likes  to  have  me  about,  to  do  things  for  him." 

"  Queen  Esther,  aren't  you  going  to  carry  on  your 
studies  for  me,  all  the  same  ?  " 

"  For  you ! "  said  she  lifting  her  heavy  eyes  to 
him.  It  hurt  him,  to  see  how  heavy  they  were; 
weighted  with  a  great  load  of  sorrow,  too  mighty 
for  tears. 

"  For  me,  certainly.  I  expect  everything  to  go 
on  just  as  if  I  were  here  to  look  after  it.  I  expect 
everything  to  go  on  so,  that  when  I  come  again 
I  may  find  just  what  I  want  to  find.  You  must 
not  disappoint  me?" 


150  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Esther  did  not  say.  She  made  no  answer  at  all, 
and  after  a  minute  put  a  question  which  was  a 
diversion. 

"Where  are  you  going  first,  Pitt?" 

"To  Lisbon." 

"Yes,  I  know  that ;  but  when  you  get  to  England?" 

"  London  first.  You  know  that  is  the  great 
English  centre." 

"  Do  you  know  any  people  there  ?  " 

"Not  I.  But  I  have  a  great  uncle  there,  living 
at  Kensington.  I  believe  that  is  part  of  London, 
though  really  I  don't  know  much  about  it.  I  shall 
go  to  see  him  of  course." 

"Your  great  uncle.  That  is,  Mr.  Dallas's  own 
uncle  ?  " 

"  No,  my  mother's.     His  name  is  Strahan." 

"And  then  you  are  going  to  Oxford?  Why  do 
you  go  there?  Are  not  the  colleges  in  America 
just  as  good?" 

"  I  can  tell  better  after  I've  seen  Oxford.  But 
no,  Queen  Esther;  that  is  larger  and  older  and 
richer  than  any  college  in  America  can  be;  indeed 
it  is  a  cluster  of  colleges;  it  is  a  University." 

"  Will  you  study  in  them  all  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Pitt  laughing,  "  not  exactly  !  But  it 
is  a  fine  place,  by  all  accounts;  a  noble  place.  And 
then,  you  know,  we  are  English,  and  my  father  and 
mother  wish  me  to  be  as  English  as  possible.  That 
is  natural." 

"  We  are  English  too,"  said  Esther  sighing. 

"  Therefore  you  ought  to  be  glad  I  am  going." 


THE  VACATION.  151 

But  Esther's  cheek  only  grew  a  shade  paler. 

"  Will  you  keep  up  your  studies,  like  a  good 
girl?" 

"  I  will  try." 

"  And  send  me  a  drawing  now  and  then,  to  let 
me  see  how  you  are  getting  on  ?  " 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  him  again,  for  one  of  those 
grave,  appealing  looks.  "  How  could  I  get  it  to 
you  ?  " 

"Your  father  will  have  my  address.  I  shall 
write  to  him,  and  I  shall  write  to  you." 

She  made  no  answer.  The  things  filling  her 
heart  were  too  many  for  it  and  too  strong;  there 
came  no  tears,  but  her  breathing  was  laboured; 
and  her  brow  was  dark  with  what  seemed  a  moun 
tain  of  oppression.  Pitt  was  half  glad  that  just 
now  there  came  a  call  for  Esther  from  the  room 
behind  them.  Both  went  in.  The  colonel  wanted 
Esther  to  search  in  a  repository  of  papers  for  a  cer 
tain  English  print  of  some  months  back. 

"Well,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "are  you  off?" 

"  Just  off,  sir,"  said  Pitt,  eyeing  the  little  figure 
that  was  busy  in  the  corner  among  the  papers.  It 
gave  him  more  pain  than  he  had  thought,  to  leave 
it.  "  I  wish  you  would  come  over,  colonel.  Why 
shouldn't  you  ?  It  would  do  you  good.  I  mean, 
when  there  is  peace  again  upon  the  high  seas." 

"  I  shall  never  leave  this  place  again,  till  I  leave 
all  that  is  earthly,"  Col.  Gainsborough  answered. 

"  May  I  take  the  liberty  sometimes  of  writing  to 
you,  sir  ?  " 


152  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"I  should  like  it  very  much,  William." 

"And  if  I  find  anything  that  would  amuse  Esther, 
sir,  may  I  tell  her  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  objection.  She  will  be  very  much 
obliged  to  you.  So  you  are  going?  Heaven  be 
with  you,  my  boy.  You  have  lightened  many  an 
hour  for  me." 

He  rose  up  and  shook  Pitt's  hand,  with  a  warm 
grasp  and  a  dignified  manner  of  leave-taking.  But 
when  Pitt  would  have  taken  Esther's  hand,  she 
brushed  past  him  and  went  out  into  the  hall.  Pitt 
followed,  with  another  bow  to  the  colonel,  and  cour 
teously  shutting  the  door  behind  him ;  wishing  the 
work  well  over.  Esther  however  made  no  fuss, 
hardly  any  demonstration.  She  stood  there  in  the 
hall  and  gave  him  her  hand  silently;  I  might  say 
coldly,  for  the  hand  was  very  cold ;  and  her  face 
was  white  with  suppressed  feeling.  Pitt  grasped 
the  hand  and  looked  at  the  face ;  hesitated ;  then 
opened  his  arms  and  took  her  into  them  and  kissed 
her.  Was  she  not  like  a  little  sister  ?  and  was  it 
possible  to  let  this  heartache  go  without  alleviation? 
No  doubt  if  the  colonel  had  been  present  he  would 
not  have  ventured  such  a  breach  of  forms;  but  as 
it  was  Pitt  defied  forms.  He  clasped  the  sorrowing 
little  girl  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  brow  and  her 
cheek  and  her  lips. 

"  I'm  coming  back  again,"  said  he.  "  See  that 
you  have  everything  all  right  for  me  when  I  come." 

Then  he  let  her  out  of  his  arms  and  went  off 
without  another  word.  As  he  went  home,  he  was 


THE  VACATION.  153 

ready  to  smile  and  skake  himself  at  the  warmth 
of  demonstration  into  which  he  had  been  betrayed. 
He  was  not  Esther's  brother,  and  had  no  particular 
right  to  shew  himself  so  affectionate.  The  colonel 
would  have  been,  he  doubted,  less  than  pleased,  and 
it  would  not  have  happened  in  his  dignified  pres 
ence.  But  Esther  was  a  child,  Pitt  said  to  himself, 
and  a  very  tender  child;  and  he  could  not  be  sorry 
that  he  had  shewn  her  the  feeling  was  not  all  on 
her  side.  Perhaps  it  might  comfort  the  child.  It 
never  occurred  to  him  to  reproach  himself  with 
shewing  more  than  he  felt,  for  he  had  no  occasion. 
The  feeling  he  had  given  expression  to  was  en 
tirely  genuine,  and  possibly  deeper  than  he  knew, 
although  he  shook  his  head,  figuratively,  at  himself 
as  he  went  home. 

Esther,  when  the  door  closed  upon  Pitt,  stood 
still  for  some  minutes ;  in  the  realization  that  now 
it  was  all  over  and  he  was  gone.  The  hall  door 
was  like  a  grim  kind  of  barrier,  behind  which  the 
light  of  her  life  had  disappeared.  It  remained  so 
stolidly  closed  !  Pitt's  hand  did  not  open  it  again ; 
the  hand  was  already  at  a  distance,  and  would  maybe 
never  push  that  door  open  any  more.  He  was  gone, 
and  the  last  day  of  that  summer  vacation  was  over. 
The  feeling  absorbed  Esther  for  a  few  minutes  and 
made  her  as  still  as  a  stone.  It  did  comfort  her 
that  he  had  taken  such  a  kindly  leave  of  her,  and 
at  the  same  time  it  sealed  the  sense  of  her  loss. 
For  he  was  the  only  one  in  the  world  in  whose 
heart  it  was  to  give  her  good  earnest  kisses  like 


154  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

that ;  and  he  was  away,  away !  Her  father's  affec 
tion  for  her  was  undoubted,  nevertheless  it  was 
not  his  wont  to  give  it  that  sort  of  expression. 
Esther  was  not  comparing  however,  nor  reflecting; 
only  filled  with  the  sense  of  her  loss,  which  for  the 
moment  chilled  and  stiffened  her.  She  heard  her 
father's  voice  calling  her,  and  she  went  in. 

"My  dear,  you  stay  too  long  in  the  cold.  Is 
William  gone?" 

"O  yes,  papa." 

"This  is  not  the  right  paper  I  want;  this  is  an 
August  paper.  I  want  the  one  for  the  last  week 
in  July." 

Esther  went  and  rummaged  again  among  the 
pile  of  newspapers,  mechanically,  finding  it  hard 
to  command  her  attention  to  such  an  indifferent 
business.  She  brought  the  July  paper  at  last. 

"  Papa,  do  you  think  he  will  ever  come  back  ?  " 
she  asked,  trembling  with  pain  and  the  effort  not 
to  shew  it. 

"Comeback?  Who?  William  Dallas ?  Why 
shouldn't  he  come  back?  His  parents  are  here. 
If  he  lives,  he  will  return  to  them,  no  doubt." 

Esther  sat  down  and  said  no  more.  The  earth 
seemed  to  her  dreadfully  empty. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

LETTEKS. 

AND  so  life  seemed  for  many  days  to  the  child. 
She  could  not  shake  off  the  feeling,  nor  regain 
any  brightness  of  spirit.  Dull,  dull,  everything 
in  earth  and  heaven  seemed  to  be.  The  taste  and 
savour  had  gone  out  of  all  her  pleasures  and  occu 
pations.  She  could  not  read,  without  the  image 
of  Pitt  coming  between  her  and  the  page;  she 
could  not  study,  without  an  unendurable  sense  that 
he  was  no  longer  there  nor  going  to  be  there  to 
hear  her  lessons.  She  had  no  heart  for  walks, 
where  every  place  recalled  some  memory  of  Pitt 
and  what  they  had  done  or  said  there  together; 
she  shunned  the  box  of  coins,  and  hardly  cared  to 
gather  one  of  the  few  lingering  fall  flowers.  And 
the  last  of  them  were  soon  gone,  for  the  pleasant 
season  was  ended.  Then  came  rains  and  clouds 
and  winds,  and  Esther  was  shut  up  to  the  house. 

I  can  never  tell  how  desolate  she  was.  Truly 
she  was  only  a  girl  of  thirteen ;  she  ought  not  to 
have  been  desolate,  perhaps,  for  any  no  greater 
matter.  She  had  her  father,  and  her  books,  and 

(155) 


156  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

her  youth.  Bat  Esther  had  also  a  nature  delicate 
and  deep  far  beyond  what  is  common;  and  then 
she  was  unduly  matured  by  her  peculiar  life.  In 
tercourse  with  light-hearted  children  like  herself 
had  not  kept  her  thoughtless  and  careless.  At 
thirteen  Esther  was  looking  into  life,  and  finding 
it  already  confused  and  dark.  At  thirteen  also 
she  was  learning  and  practising  self-command. 
Her  father,  not  much  of  an  observer  unless  in  the 
field  of  military  operations,  had  no  perception  that 
she  was  suffering;  it  never  occurred  to  him  that 
she  might  be  solitary;  he  never  knew  that  she 
needed  his  tenderest  care  and  society  and  guid 
ance.  He  might  have  replaced  everything  to  Es 
ther,  so  that  she  would  have  found  no  want  at  all. 
He  did  nothing  of  the  kind.  He  was  a  good  man ; 
just  and  upright  and  honourable  to  a  hair;  but  he 
was  selfish,  like  most  men.  He  lived  to  himself  in 
his  own  deprivation  and  sorrow,  and  never  thought 
but  that  Esther  would  in  a  few  days  get  over  the 
loss  of  her  young  teacher  and  companion.  He 
hardly  thought  about  it  at  all.  The  idea  of  filling 
Pitt's  place,  of  giving  her  in  his  own  person  what 
left  her  when  Pitt  went  away,  did  not  enter  his 
head.  Indeed  he  had  no  knowledge  of  what  Pitt 
had  done  for  her.  If  he  had  known  it,  there  is 
little  doubt  it  would  have  excited  his  jealousy. 
For  it  is  quite  in  some  people's  nature  to  be 
jealous  of  another's  having  what  they  do  not 
want  themselves. 

And  so  Esther  suffered  in  a  way  and  to  a  degree 


LETTERS.  157 

that  was  ngt  good  for  her.  Her  old  dull  spiritless 
condition  was  creeping  upon  her  again.  She  re 
alized,  more  than  it  is  the  way  of  thirteen  years 
old  to  realize,  that  something  more  tharj  an  ocean 
of  waters — an  ocean  of  circumstances — had  rolled 
itself  between  her  and  the  one  friend  and  compan 
ion  she  had  ever  had.  Pitt  said  he  would  return ; 
but  four  or  five  years,  for  all  present  purposes,  is  a 
sort  of  eternity  at  her  age;  hope  could  not  leap  over 
it,  and  expectation  died  at  the  brink.  Her  want 
of  comfort  came  back  in  full  force;  but  where  was 
the  girl  to  get  it  ? 

The  sight  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas  used  to  put  her 
in  a  fever.  Once  in  a  while  the  two  would  come 
to  make  an  evening  call  upon  her  father;  and  then 
Esther  used  to  withdraw  as  far  as  possible  into  a 
corner  of  the  room  and  watch  and  listen ;  watch  the 
looks  of  the  pair  with  a  kind  of  irritated  fascina 
tion,  and  listen  to  their  talk  with  her  heart  jump 
ing  and  throbbing  in  pain  and  anxiety  and  pas 
sionate  longing.  For  they  were  Pitt's  father  and 
mother,  and  only  the  ocean  of  waters  lay  between 
him  and  them,  which  they  could  cross  at  any  time; 
he  belonged  to  them,  and  could  not  be  separated 
from  them.  All  which  would  have  drawn  Esther 
very  near  to  them  and  made  them  delightful  to 
her,  but  that  she  knew  very  well  they  desired  no 
such  approach.  Whether  it  were  simply  because 
she  and  her  father  were  "  dissenters  "  Esther  could 
not  tell;  whatever  the  reason,  her  sensitive  nature 
and  discerning  vision  saw  the  fact.  They  made 


158  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

visits  of  neighbourly  politeness  to  the  one  English 
family  that  was  within  reach ;  but  more  than  po 
liteness  they  desired  neither  to  give  nor  receive. 
I  suppose  it  was  this  perception  which  made  the 
sight  of  the  pair  so  irritating  to  Esther.  They  were 
near  Pitt,  but  they  did  not  wish  that  she  should  be. 
Esther  kept  well  at  a  distance.  But  with  all  this 
they  talked  of  their  son  perpetually.  "Of  his  voy 
age,  of  his  prospects,  of  his  grand  uncle  at  Ken 
sington,  of  his  career  in  college,  or  at  the  University 
rather;  and  of  his  possible  permanent  remaining  in 
the  old  country;  at  any  rate,  of  his  studying  there 
for  a  profession.  The  colonel  was  only  faintly  in 
terested,  and  would  take  up  his  book  with  a  sigh 
of  relief  when  they  were  gone;  but  Esther  would 
sit  in  passionate  misery,  not  shedding  any  tears; 
only  staring  with  her  big  eyes  at  the  lire  in  a  sort 
of  fixed  gravity  most  unfit  for  her  years. 

The  months  went  heavily.  Winters  were  rather 
severe  and  very  long  at  Seaforth;  Esther  was  much 
shut  up  to  the  house.  It  made  things  all  the  harder 
for  her.  To  the  colonel  it  made  no  difference.  He 
lay  upon  his  couch,  summer  or  winter,  and  went  on 
with  his  half-hearted  reading;  half  a  heart  was  all 
he  brought  to  it.  While  Esther  would  stand  at  the 
window,  watching  the  snow  drive  past,  or  the  beat 
ing  down  of  the  rain,  or  the  glitter  of  the  sunbeams 
upon  a  wide  white  world;  and  almost  wonder  at 
the  thought  that  warm  lights  and  soft  airs  and 
flowers  and  walks  and  botanizing  had  ever  been 
out  there,  where  now  the  glint  of  the  sunbeams  on 


LETTERS.  159 

the  snow  crystals  was  as  sharp  as  diamonds,  and 
all  vegetable  life  seemed  to  be  gone  for  ever. 

Pitt  had  sailed  in  November,  various  difficulties 
having  delayed  his  departure  to  a  month  later  than 
the  time  intended  for  it.  Therefore  news  from  him 
could  not  be  looked  for  until  the  new  year  was  on 
its  way.  Towards  the  end  of  January  however,  as 
early  as  could  possibly  be  hoped,  a  letter  came  to 
Col.  Gainsborough  which  he  immediately  knew  to 
be  in  Pitt's  hand. 

"  No  postmark,"  he  said,  surveying  it.  "  I  sup 
pose  it  came  by  private  opportunity." 

"  Papa,  you  look  a  long  while  at  the  outside !  " 
said  Esther,  who  stood  by  full  of  excited  impatience 
which  she  knew  better  than  to  shew. 

"  The  outside  has  its  interest  too,  my  dear,"  said 
her  father.  u  I  was  looking  for  the  Lisbon  post 
mark,  but  there  is  none  whatever*  It  must  have 
come  by  private  hand." 

He  broke  the  seal,  and  found  within  an  enclosure 
directed  to  Esther,  which  he  gave  her.  And  Es 
ther  presently  left  the  room.  Her  father,  she  saw, 
was  deep  in  the  contents  of  his  letter  and  would  not 
notice  her  going,  while  if  she  stayed  in  the  room 
she  knew  she  would  be  called  upon  to  read  her  own 
letter  or  to  shew  it  before  she  was  ready.  She 
wanted  to  enjoy  the  full  first  taste  of  it,  slowly  and 
thoroughly.  Meanwhile,  the  colonel  never  noticed 
her  going.  Pitt's  letter  was  dated  "  Lisbon,  Christ 
mas  Day,  1813,"  and  ran  as  follows. 


160  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  MY  DEAR  COLONEL, 

"I  have  landed  at  last,  as  you  see,  in  this  dirtiest 
of  all  places  I  ever  was  in.  I  realize  now  why 
America  is  called  the  New  world;  for  everything 
here  drives  the  consciousness  upon  me  that  the 
world  on  this  side  is  very  old — so  old,  I  should  say, 
that  it  is  past  cleansing.  I  do  suppose  it  is  not  fair 
to  compare  it  with  Seaforth,  which  is  as  bright  in 
comparison  as  if  it  were  an  ocean  shell  shining  with 
pure  lights;  but  I  certainly  hope  things  will  mend 
when  I  get  to  London. 

"  But  I  did  not  mean  to  talk  to  you  about  Lisbon, 
which  I  suppose  you  know  better  than  I  do.  My 
hope  is  to  give  you  the  pleasure  of  an  early  piece 
of  news.  Probably  the  papers  will  already  have 
given  it  to  you,  but  it  is  just  possible  that  the 
chances  of  weather  and  ships  may  let  my  letter  get 
to  you  first,  and  in  that  case  my  pleasure  will  be 
gained. 

"There  is  great  news.  Napoleon  has  been  beaten, 
beaten!  isn't  that  great?  He  has  lost  a  hundred 
thousand  men,  and  is  driven  back  over  the  Rhine. 
Holland  has  joined  the  Allies,  and  the  Prince  of 
Orange;  and  Lord  Wellington  has  fought  such  a 
battle  as  history  hardly  tells  of;  seven  days'  fight 
ing;  and  the  victory  ranks  with  the  greatest  that 
ever  were  gained. 

"  That  is  all  I  can  tell  you  now,  but  it  is  so  good 
you  can  afford  to  wait  for  further  details.  It  is 
now  more  difficult  than  ever  to  get  into  France,  and 
I  don't  know  yet  how  I  am  going  to  make  my  way 


LETTERS.  161 

to  England;  it  is  specially  hard  for  Americans,  and 
I  must  be  reckoned  an  American,  you  know.  How 
ever,  money  will  overcome  all  difficulties;  money 
and  persistence.  I  have  written  to  Esther  some 
thing  about  my  voyage,  which  will,  I  hope,  inter 
est  her.  I  will  do  myself  the  pleasure  of  writing 
again  when  I  get  to  London.  Meanwhile,  dear 
sir,  I  remain 

"  Ever  your  grateful  and  most  obedient, 

"  WILM.  PITT  DALLAS." 

Esther,  while  her  father  was  revelling  in  this 
letter,  was  taking  a  very  different  sort  of  pleasure 
in  hers.  There  was  a  fire  upstairs  in  her  room ;  she 
lit  a  candle,  and  in  the  exquisite  sense  of  having 
her  enjoyment  all  to  herself  went  slowly  over  the 
lines;  as  slowly  as  she  could. 

"Lisbon,  Christmas  Day,  1813. 
"  MY  DEAR  LITTLE  ESTHER, 

"  If  you  think  a  voyage  over  the  sea  is  in  any 
thing  like  a  journey  by  land,  you  are  mistaken. 
The  only  one  thing  in  which  they  are  alike,  is  that 
in  both  ways  you  get  on.  But  wheels  go  smoothly, 
even  over  a  jolty  road;  and  waves  do  nothing  but 
toss  you.  It  was  just  one  succession  of  rollings  and 
pitchings  from  the  time  we  left  New  Bedford  till 
we  got  sight  of  the  coast  of  Portugal.  The  wind 
blew  all  the  time  almost  a  gale,  rising  at  different 
points  of  our  passage  to  the  full  desert  of  the  name. 
One  violent  storm  we  had;  and  all  the  rest  of  the 


162  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

voyage  we  were  pitching  about  at  such  a  rate  that 
we  had  to  fight  for  our  meals;  tables  were  broken, 
and  coffee  and  chocolate  poured  about  with  a  reck 
less  disregard  of  economy.  For  about  halt'  the 
way  it  rained  persistently;  so  altogether  you  may 
suppose,  Queen  Esther,  that  my  first  experience  has 
not  made  me  in  love  with  the  sea.  But  it  wasn't 
bad,  after  all.  The  wind  drove  us  along,  that  was 
one  comfort;  and  it  would  have  driven  us  along 
much  faster,  if  our  sails  had  been  good  for  anything; 
but  they  were  a  rotten  set,  a  match  for  the  crew, 
who  were  a  rascally  band  of  Portuguese.  Ho  wever, 
we  drove  along,  as  I  said,  seeing  nobody  to  speak 
to  all  the  way  except  ourselves;  not  a  sail  in  sight 
nearer  than  eight  or  ten  miles  off. 

"Well,  the  23rd  we  sighted  land,  to  everybody's 
great  joy,  you  may  suppose.  The  wind  fell,  and 
that  night  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  de 
licious  you  can  imagine.  A  smooth  sea,  without  a 
ripple,  a  clear  sky  without  a  cloud,  stars  shining 
down  quietly,  and  air  as  soft  as  May  at  Seaforth. 
I  stood  on  deck  half  the  night,  enjoying,  and 
thinking  of  five  hundred  thousand  things  one  after 
another.  Now  that  I  was  almost  setting  my  foot 
on  a  new  world,  my  life,  past  and  future,  seemed 
to  rise  up  and  confront  me;  and  I  looked  at  it  and 
took  counsel  with  it  as  it  were.  Seaforth  on  one 
side,  and  Oxford  on  the  other;  the  question  was, 
what  should  William  Pitt  be  between  them  ?  The 
question  never  looked  so  big  to  me  before.  Some 
how,  I  believe,  the  utter  perfection  of  the  night 


LETTERS.  163 

suggested  to  me  the  idea  of  perfection  generally; 
what  a  mortal  may  come  to  when  at  his  best. 
Such  a  view  of  nature  as  I  was  having  puts  one 
out  of  conceit,  I  believe,  with  whatever  is  out  of 
order,  unseemly,  or  untrue,  or  what  for  any  reason 
misses  the  end  of  its  existence.  Then  rose  the 
question,  what  is  the  end  of  existence? — but  I  did 
not  mean  to  give  you  my  moralizings,  Queen  Es 
ther;  I  have  drifted  into  it.  I  can  tell  you,  though, 
that  my  moralizing  got  a  sharp  emphasis  the  next 
day. 

"  I  turned  in  at  last,  leaving  the  world  of  air 
and  water  a  very  image  of  peace.  I  slept  rather 
late,  I  suppose;  was  awakened  by  the  hoarse  voice 
of  the  captain  calling  all  hands  on  deck,  in  a  man 
ner  that  shewed  me  there  must  be  urgent  cause. 
I  tumbled  up  as  soon  as  possible.  What  do  you 
think  I  saw  ? 

"The  morning  was  as  fair  as  the  night  had  been. 
The  sea  was  smooth,  the  sun  shining  brilliantly.  I 
suppose  the  colonel  would  tell  you,  that  seas  may 
be  too  smooth;  anyhow  I  saw  the  fact  now.  There 
had  been  not  wind  enough  during  the  night  to 
make  our  sails  of  any  use;  a  current  had  caught 
us,  and  we  had  been  drifting,  drifting,  till  now  it 
appeared  we  were  drifting  straight  on  to  a  line  of 
rocks  which  we  could  see  at  a  little  distance;  made 
known  both  to  eye  and  ear;  to  the  former  by 
a  line  of  white  where  the  waves  broke  upon  the 
rocks,  and  to  the  latter  by  the  thundering  noise 
the  breakers  made.  Now  you  know,  where  waves 


164  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

break,  a  ship  would  stand  very  little  chttnce  of  hold 
ing  together;  but  what  were  we  to  do?  The  only- 
thing  possible  we  did;  let  out  our  anchors;  but  the 
question  was,  would  they  hold?  They  did  hold, 
but  none  too  soon;  for  we  were  left  riding  only 
about  three  times  our  ship's  length  from  the  threat 
ening  danger.  You  see,  we  had  a  drunken  crew ; 
no  proper  watch  was  kept;  the  captain  was  first 
roused  by  the  thunder  of  the  waves  dashing  upon 
the  rocks;  and  then  nothing  was  ready  or  in  order, 
and  before  the  anchors  could  be  got  out  we  were 
where  I  tell  you.  The  anchors  held,  but  we  could 
not  tell  how  long  they  would  hold,  nor  how  soon 
the  force  of  the  waves  would  drag  us,  cables  and 
all,  to  the  rocks.  There  we  sat  and  looked  at  the 
view  and  situation.  We  hoisted  a  signal  and  fired 
guns  of  distress;  but  we  were  in  front  of  a  rocky 
shore  that  gave  us  little  hope  of  either  being  of 
avail.  At  last,  after  three  hours  of  this,  the  cap 
tain  and  some  of  the  passengers  got  into  the  yawl 
and  went  off  to  find  help.  We  left  behind  stared 
at  the  breakers.  After  three  more  hours  had  gone, 
I  saw  the  yawl  coming  back  followed  by  another 
small  boat,  and  further  off  by  four  royal  pilot  boats 
with  sails.  I  saw  them  with  the  glass,  that  is,  from 
my  station  in  the  rigging.  When  they  came  up,  all 
the  passengers  except  half  a  dozen,  of  whom  I  was 
one,  were  transferred  to  the  pilot  boats.  You  should 
have  heard  the  jabber  of  the  Portuguese  when  they 
came  on  board !  But  the  captain  had  determined 
to  try  to  save  his  brig,  as  by  this  time  a  slight 


LETTERS.  165 

breeze  had  sprung  up,  and  I  staid  with  some  of  the 
others  to  help  in  the  endeavour.  When  the  rest 
of  the  passengers  were  safe  on  board  the  pilot 
boats,  we  set  about  our  critical  undertaking.  Sails 
were  spread,  one  anchor  hoisted,  the  cable  of  the 
other  cut,  and  we  stood  holding  our  breath,  to  see 
whether  wind  or  water  would  prove  strongest. 
But  the  sails  drew ;  the  brig  slowly  fell  off  before 
the  wind,  and  we  edged  away  from  our  perilous 
position.  Then,  when  we  were  fairly  off,  there 
rose  a  roar  of  shouts,  that  rent  the  air;  for  the 
boats  had  all  waited,  lying  a  few  rods  off,  to  see 
what  would  become  of  us.  Queen  Esther,  I  can 
tell  you,  if  I  had  been  a  woman,  I  should  have  sat 
down  and  cried;  what  I  did  I  won't  say.  As  I 
looked  back  to  the  scene  of  our  danger,  there  was 
a  most  lovely  rainbow  spanning  it,  shewing  in  the 
cloud  of  spray  that  rose  above  the  breakers. 

"  At  six  o'clock  on  Christmas  eve  I  landed  at 
Lisbon,  where  I  got  comfortable  quarters  in  an  Eng 
lish  boarding  house.  When  I  can  get  to  London, 
I  do  not  yet  know.  I  am  here  at  a  great  time,  to 
see  history  as  it  is  taking  shape  in  human  life  and 
experience;  something  different  from  looking  at  it 
as  cast  into  bronze  or  silver  in  former  ages  and 
packed  up  in  a  box  of  coins ;  hey,  Queen  Esther  ? 
But  that's  good  too  in  its  way.  Your  father  will 
tell  you  'the  news. 

"  Your  devoted  subject, 

"WiLM.  PITT  DALLAS." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
STRUGGLES. 

sat,  swallowed  up  of  excitement,  poring 
-L/  over  this  letter,  Ion ger  than  she  knew ;  whether 
it  gave  her  most  pain  or  pleasure  she  could  not  have 
told.  Pleasure  came  in  a  great  wave  at  first;  and 
then  pricks  of  pain  began  to  make  themselves  felt, 
as  if  the  pleasure  wave  had  been  full  of  sharp  points. 
Her  cheeks  glowed,  her  eyes  sent  looks,  or  rather 
one  steady  look,  at  the  paper,  which  would  certainly 
have  bored  it  through  or  set  it  on  fire  if  moral  quali 
ties  had  taken  to  themselves  material  power.  At 
last,  remembering  that  she  must  not  stay  too -long, 
she  folded  the  letter  up  and  returned  to  her  father. 
He  had  taken  his  letter  coolly,  she  saw,  and  gone 
back  to  his  book.  How  far  his  world  was  from 
hers !  Absolutely,  Pitt's  letter  was  nothing  to  him. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  he  after  a  while  observing 
her, — "  what  does  he  say  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  he  told  you,  papa,  what  happened  to 
him?" 

"JSTo,  he  did  not;  he  only  told  me  whal  is  hap 
pening  to  the  world.     He  has  gone  to  Europe  at  a 
grand  time ! " 
(166) 


STRUGGLES.  167 

"  What  is  happening  to  the  world,  papa  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  that  arch  usurper  and  mischief  maker, 
Napoleon  Buonaparte,  has  been  beaten  by  the  allied 
armies  at  Leipzig — driven  back  over  the  Khine. 
It's  glorious  news!  I  wish  I  was  with  Lord 
Wellington." 

"  To  fight,  papa  ?  " 

"Certainly.  I  would  like  to  have  a  hand  in 
what  is  going  on.  If  I  could," — he  added  with  a 
sigh. 

"  But  papa,  I  should  think  fighting  was  not  pleas 
ant  work  ?  " 

"  Women's  fighting  is  not." 

"Is  men's  fighting,  papa?     Pleasant?" 

*'  It  is  pleasant  to  have  a  blow  at  a  rascal.  Ah, 
well !  my  fighting  days  are  over.  WThat  does  Pitt 
tell  you?" 

"About  his  voyage,  papa;  nothing  else." 

"  Are  you  going  to  let  me  hear  it  ?  " 

Esther  would  a  little  rather  have  kept  it  to  her 
self,  simply  because  it  was  so  precious  to  her. 
However,  this  question  was  a  command,  and  she 
read  the  letter  aloud  to  her  father.  With  that  the 
matter  was  disposed  of,  in  all  but  her  own  mind. 
For  the  final  result  of  the  letter  was  to  stir  up  all 
the  pain  the  writer's  absence  had  caused,  and  to 
add  to  it  some  new  elements  of  aggravation.  Es 
ther  had  not  realized,  till  those  letters  came,  how 
entirely  the  writer  of  them  had  gone  out  of  her 
world.  In  love  and  memory  she  had  in  a  sort  still 
kept  him  near;  without  vision,  she  had  yet  been 


168  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

not  fully  separated  from  him.  Now  these  pictures 
of  the  other  world  and  of  Pitt's  life  in  it,  came  like 
a  bright,  sheer  blade  severing  the  connection  which 
had  until  then  subsisted  between  her  life  and  his. 
Yes,  he  was  in  another  world !  and  there  was  no 
connection  any  longer.  He  had  not  forgotten  her 
yet,  but  he  would  forget;  how  should  he  not?  how 
could  he  help  it  ?  In  the  rich  sweep  of  variety  and 
change  and  eager  action  which  filled  his  experience, 
what  thought  could  he  have  any  more  for  that 
quiet  figure  on  the  sofa,  or  this  lonely  little  child, 
whose  life  contained  no  interest  whatever?  or  how 
could  his  thoughts  return  at  all  to  this  dull  room, 
where  everything  remained  with  no  change  from 
morning  to  night  and  from  one  week  to  another? 
Always  Col.  Gainsborough  there  on  the  sofa;  al 
ways  that  same  green  cloth  covering  the  table  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  the  view  of  the  snow- 
covered  garden  and  road  and  fields  outside  the 
windows,  with  those  everlasting  pollard  poplars 
along  the  fence.  While  Europe  was  in  commo 
tion,  and  armies  rolling  their  masses  over  it,  and 
Napoleon  fleeing  and  Lord  Wellington  chasing, 
and  every  breath  was  full  of  eagerness  and  hope 
and  triumph  and  purpose  in  that  world  without. 

Esther  fell  back  into  a  kind  of  despair.  Pitt  was 
gone  from  her;  now  she  realized  that  fact  thor 
oughly;  not  only  gone  in  person,  but  moved  far  off 
in  mind.  Maybe  he  might  write  again,  once  or 
twice;  very  likely  he  would,  for  he  was  kind;  but 
his  life  was  henceforth  separated  from  Seaforth  and 


STRUGGLES.  169 

from  all  the  other  life  that  had  its  home  there. 
The  old  cry  for  comfort  began  to  sound  in  Esther's 
heart  with  a  terrible  urgency.  Where  was  it  to 
come  from  ?  And  as  the  child  had  only  one  pos 
sible  outlook  for  comfort,  she  began  to  set  her 
face  that  way  in  a  kind  of  resolute  determination. 
That  is,  she  began  to  shut  herself  up  with  her 
Bible  and  search  it  as  a  man  who  is  poor  searches 
for  a  hid  treasure,  or  as  one  who  is  starving  looks 
for  something  to  eat.  Nobody  knew.  She  shut 
herself  up  and  carried  on  her  search  alone,  and 
troubled  nobody  with  questions.  Nobody  ever 
noticed  the  air  of  the  child;  the  grave,  far-away, 
look  of  her  eyes;  the  pale  face;  the  unnaturally 
quiet  demeanour.  At  least  nobody  noticed  it  to 
any  purpose.  Mrs.  Barker  did  communicate  to 
Christopher  her  belief  that  that  child  was  "mopin' 
herself  into  ninety  years  old  " ;  and  they  were  both 
agreed  that  she  ought  to  be  sent  to  school.  "A 
girl  don't  grow  just  like  one  o'  my  cabbages,"  said 
Mr.  Bounder;  "that'll  make  a  head  for  itself." 

"  Miss  Esther's  got  a  head,"  put  in  Mrs.  Barker. 

"  'T won't  be  solid  and  that,  if  it  aint  looked  after," 
retorted  her  brother.  "  I  don't  s'pose  you  under 
stand  the  natural  world,  though.  What's  the  col 
onel  thinkin'  about  ?  " 

"  That  aint  your  and  my  business,  Christopher. 
But  I  do  worrit  myself  about  Miss  Esther's  face, 
the  way  I  sees  it  sometimes." 

The  colonel,  it  is  true,  did  not  see  it  as  Mrs.  Bar 
ker  saw  it.  Not  but  he  might,  if  he  had  evei 


170  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

watched  her.  But  he  did  not  watch.  It  never 
occurred  to  him  but  that  everything  went  right 
with  Esther.  When  she  made  him  his  tea,  she 
was  attentive  and  womanly;  when  she  read  aloud 
to  him,  she  read  intelligently;  and  in  the  reciting 
of  the  few  lessons  she.  did  with  her  father,  there 
was  always  no  fault  to  find.  How  could  the 
colonel  suppose  anything  was  wrong?  Life  had 
become  a  dull,  sad  story  to  him;  why  should  it  be 
different  to  anybody  else?  Nay,  the  colonel  would 
not  have  said  that  in  words;  it  was  rather  the  su 
pine  condition  into  which  he  had  lapsed,  than  any 
conclusion  of  his  intelligence ;  but  the  fact  was,  he 
had  no  realization  of  the  fact  that  a  child's  life 
ought  to  be  bright  and  gay.  He  accepted  Esther's 
sedate  unvarying  tone  and  manner  as  quite  the 
right  thing,  and  found  it  suit  him  perfectly.  No 
body  else  saw  the  girl,  except  at  church.  The  family 
had  not  cultivated  the  society  of  their  neighbours 
in  the  place,  and  Esther  had  no  friends  among  them. 
There  was  a  long  succession  of  months  during 
which  things  went  on  after  this  fashion.  Very 
weary  months  to  Esther;  indeed  months  covered 
by  so  thick  a  gloom  that  part  of  the  child's  life 
consisted  in  the  struggle  to  break  it.  Letters  did 
not  come  frequently  from  Pitt,  even  to  his  father 
and  mother;  he  wrote  that  it  was  difficult  to  ge't 
a  vessel  to  take  American  letters  at  all,  and  that 
the  chances  were  ten  to  one,  if  accepted,  that  they 
would  never  get  to  the  hands  they  were  intended 
for.  American  letters  or  American  passengers  were 


STRUGGLES.  171 

sometimes  held  to  vitiate  the  neutrality  of  a  ves 
sel;  and  if  chased  she  would  be  likely  to  throw 
them,  that  is,  the  former,  overboard.  Pitt  was  de 
tained  still  in  Lisbon  by  the  difficulty  of  getting 
passports,  as  late  as  the  middle  of  March,  but  ex 
pected  then  soon  to  sail  for  England.  His  passage 
was  taken.  So  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas  reported  on 
one  of  their  evening  visits.  They  talked  a  great 
deal  of  politics  at  these  visits,  which  sometimes 
interested  Esther  and  sometimes  bored  her  exces 
sively  ;  but  this  last  bit  of  private  news  was  brought 
one  evening  about  the  end  of  April. 

"  He  has  not  gained  much  by  his  winter's  work," 
remarked  the  colonel.  "He  might  as  well  have 
studied  this  term  at  Yale." 

"  He  will  not  have  lost  his  time,"  said  Mr.  Dallas 
comfortably.  "He  is  there,  that  is  one  thing;  and 
he  is  looking  about  him;  and  now  he  will  have 
time  to  feel  a  little  at  home  in  England  and  make 
all  his  arrangements  before  his  studies  begin.  It 
is  very  well  as  it  is." 

"If  you  think  so,  it  is,"  said  the  colonel  dryly. 

The  next  news  was  that  Pitt  had  landed  at  Fal- 
mouth  and  was  going  by  post  chaise  to  London  in 
a  day  or  two.  He  reported  having  just  got  Lord 
Byron's  two  last  poerns;  the  "Corsair"  and  the 
"Bride  of  Abydos";  wished  he  could  send  them 
home,  but  that  was  not  so  easy. 

"  He  had  better  send  them  home,  or  send  them 
anywhere,"  said  the  colonel;  "and  give  his  atten 
tion  to  Sophocles  and  Euclid.  Light  poetry  does 


172  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

not  amount  to  anything;  it  is  worse  than  waste 
of  time." 

"  I  don't  want  a  man  to  be  made  of  Greek 
and  Latin,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas.  "Do  you  think, 
only  the  Ancients  wrote  what  is  worthy  to  be 
read,  colonel?" 

"They  didn't  write  nonsense,  my  dear  madam; 
and  Byron  does." 

"  Nonsense ! " 

"  Worse  than  nonsense." 

"  Won't  do  to  enquire  too  strictly  into  what  the 
old  Greeks  and  Romans  wrote,  if  folks  say  true," 
remarked  Mr.  Dallas  slyly. 

"  In  the  dead  languages  it  won't  do  a  young  man 
so  much  harm,"  said  the  colonel.  "I  hope  William 
will  give  himself  now  to  his  Greek,  since  you  have 
afforded  him  such  opportunity." 

Mrs.  Dallas's  air,  as  she  rose  to  take  leave,  was 
inimitably  expressive  of  proud  confidence  and  re 
jection  of  the  question.  Mr.  Dallas  laughed  care 
lessly  and  said  as  he  shook  the  colonel's  hand, 
"No  fear!" 

The  next  news  they  had  came  direct.  Another 
letter  from  Pitt  to  the  colonel.  And  as  before,  it 
enclosed  one  for  Esther.  Esther  ran  away  again 
to  have  the  first  reading  and  indulge  herself  in  the 
first  impressions  of  it  alone  and  free  from  question 
or  observation.  She  even  locked  her  door.  This 
letter  was  written  from  London,  and  dated  May, 
1814. 


STRUGGLES.  173 

"  MY  DEAR  QUEEN  ESTHER, 

"  I  wish  you  were  here,  for  we  certainly  would 
have  some  famous  walks  together.  Do  you  know, 
I  am  in  London  ?  and  that  means,  in  one  of  the 
most  wonderful  places  in  the  world.  You  can  have 
no  idea  what  sort  of  a  place  it  is,  and  no  words  I 
can  write  will  tell  you.  I  have  not  got  over  my 
own  sense  of  astonishment  and  admiration  yet; 
indeed  it  is  growing,  not  lessening;  and  every 
time  I  go  out  I  come  home  more  bewildered  with 
what  I  have  seen.  Do  you  ask  me  why  ?  In  the 
first  place,  because  it  is  so  big.  Next,  because  of 
the  unimaginable  throng  of  human  beings  of  every 
grade  and  variety.  Such  a  multitude  of  human 
lives  crossing  each  other  in  an  intraceable  and 
interminable  network;  intraceable  to  the  human 
eye,  but  what  a  sight  it  must  be  to  the  eye  that 
sees  all !  All  these  people,  so  many  hundreds  of 
thousands,  acting  and  reacting  upon  one  another's 
happiness,  prosperity,  goodness  and  badness.  Now 
at  such  a  place  as  Seaforth  people  are  left  a  good 
deal  to  their  individuality,  and  are  comparatively 
independent  of  one  another;  but  here  1  feel  what 
a  pressure  and  bondage  men's  lives  draw  round 
each  other.  It  makes  me  catch  my  breath.  You 
will  not  care  about  this,  however,  nor  be  able  to 
understand  me. 

"But  another  thing  you  would  care  for,  and 
delight  in;  and  that  is  the  historical  associations 
of  London.  Queen  Esther,  it  is  delightful !  You 
and  I  have  looked  at  coins  and  read  books  together, 


174  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

and  looked  at  history  so ;  but  here  I  seem  to  touch 
it.  I  have  been  to-day  to  Charing  Cross,  standing 
and  wandering  about,  and  wondering  at  the  things 
that  have  happened  there.  Ask  your  father  to  tell 
you  .about  Charing  Cross.  I  could  hardly  come 
away.  If  you  ask  me  how  /  know  so  well  what 
happened  there,  I  will  tell  you.  I  have  found  an 
old  uncle  here.  You  knew  I  had  one  ?  He  lives 
just  a  little  out  of  London,  or  out  of  the  thick  of 
London,  in  a  place  that  is  called  Kensington;  in  a 
queer  old  house,  which  however  I  like  very  much, 
and  that  is  filled  with  curiosities.  It  is  in  a  pleas 
ant  situation,  not  far  from  one  of  the  public  parks 
— though  it  is  not  called  a  park,  but  *  Gardens,' — 
and  with  one  or  two  palaces  and  a  number  of  noble 
mansions  about  it.  My  uncle  received  me  very 
hospitably  and  would  have  me  come  and  make  my 
home  with  him  while  I  am  in  London.  That  is 
nice  for  me,  and  in  many  ways.  He  is  a  character, 
this  old  uncle  of  mine;  something  of  an  antiquary, 
a  good  deal  of  a  hermit,  a  little  eccentric,  but 
stuffed  with  local  knowledge,  and  indeed  with 
knowledge  of  many  sorts.  I  think  he  has  taken 
a  fancy  to  me  somehow,  Queen  Esther;  at  any 
rate,  he  is  very  kind.  He  seems  to  like  to  go 
about  with  me  and  shew  me  London  and  explain 
to  me  what  London  is.  He  was  there  at  Charing 
Cross  with  me,  holding  forth  on  history  and  poli 
tics — he's  a  great  Tory;  ask  the  colonel  what  that 
is;  and  really  I  seemed  to  see  the  ages  rolling  be 
fore  me  as  he  talked,  and  I  looked  at  Northumber- 


STRUGGLES.  175 

land  House  and  at  the  brazen  statue  of  Charles  I. 
If  I  had  time  I  would  tell  you  about  them,  as  Mr. 
Strahan  told  me.  And  yesterday  I  was  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  heard  some  great  talking; 
and  to-morrow  we  are  going  to  the  Tower.  I  think, 
if  you  were  only  here  to  go  too,  we  should  have  a 
first-rate  sort  of  a  time.  But  I  will  try  and  tell 
you  about  it. 

"  And  talking  of  history, — Mr.  Strahan  has  some 
beautiful  coins.  There  is  one  of  Philip  of  Macedon, 
and  two  of  Alexander;  think  of  that,  Queen  Esther; 
and  some  exquisite  gold  pieces  of  Tarentum  and 
Syracuse.  How  your  eyes  would  look  at  them. 
Well,  study  up  everything,  so  that  when  we  meet 
again  we  may  talk  up  all  the  world.  I  shall  be 
very  hard  at  work  myself  soon,  as  soon  as  I  go 
to  Oxford.  In  the  mean  time  I  am  rather  hard  at 
work  here,  although  to  be  sure  the  work  is  play. 

"This  is  a  very  miserable  bit  of  a  letter,  and  noth 
ing  in  it,  just  because  I  have  so  much  to  say.  If 
I  had  time  I  would  write  it  over,  but  I  have  not 
time.  The  next  shall  be  better.  I  am  a  great 
deal  with  Mr.  Strahan,  in  doors  as  well  as  out.  I 
wish  I  could  shew  you  his  house,  Queen.  It  is 
old  and  odd  and  pretty.  Thick  old  walls,  little 
windows  in  deep  recesses;  low  ceilings  and  high 
ceilings,  for  different  parts  of  the  house  are  unlike 
each  other;  most  beautiful  dark  oaken  wainscot- 
ings,  carved  deliciously,  and  grown  black  with 
time;  and  big,  hospitable  chimney  pieces,  with 
fires  of  English  soft  coal.  Some  of  the  rooms  are 


176  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

rather  dark,  to  me  who  am  accustomed  to  the  sun 
of  America  pouring  in  at  a  wealth  of  big  windows; 
but  others  are  to  me  quite  charming.  And  this 
quaint  old  house  is  filled  with  treasures  and  curi 
osities.  Mr.  Strahan  lives  in  it  quite  alone  with 
two  servants,  a  factotum  of  a  housekeeper  and 
another  factotum  of  a  man-servant.  I  must  say 
I  find  it  intelligible  that  he  should  take  pleasure 
in  having  me  with  him.  Good-bye  for  to-night. 
I'll  write  soon  again. 

"War.    PITT   DALLAS." 

As  on  occasion  of  the  former  letter,  Esther  lin 
gered  long  over  the  reading  of  this;  her  uneasiness 
not  appeased  by  it  at  all.  Then  at  last  went  down 
to  her  father,  to  whom  the  uneasiness  was  quite 
unknown  and  unsuspected. 

"  I  think  William  writes  the  longest  letters  to 
you,"  he  remarked.  "  What  does  he  say  this  time?" 

Esther  read  her  letter  aloud. 

"Will  has  fallen  on  his  feet,"  was  the  comment. 

"  What  does  he  say  to  you,  papa  ?  " 

"  Not  much ;  and  yet  a  good  deal.  You  may  read 
for  yourself." 

Which  Esther  did,  eagerly.  Pitt  had  told  her  fa 
ther  about  his  visit  to  the  House  of  Commons. 

"  I  had  yesterday,"  he  wrote,  "  a  rare  pleasure, 
which  you,  my  dear  Colonel,  would  have  appreciated. 
Mr.  Strahan  took  me  to  the  House  of  Commons;  and 
I  heard  Mr.  Canning,  Mr.  Whitbread,  Mr.  Wilber- 
force,  Mr.  Ponsonby,  and  others,  on  what  question, 


STRUGGLES.  177 

do  you  think  ?  Nothing  less  than  the  duty  which 
lies  upon  England  just  at  this  moment  to  use  the 
advantage  of  her  influence  with  her  Allies  in  Europe 
to  get  them  to  join  with  her  in  putting  down  the 
slave  trade.  It  was  a  royal  occasion ;  and  the  en 
joyment  of  it  quite  beyond  description.  To-day  I 
have  been  standing  at  Charing  Cross,  looking  at 
the  statue  of  Charles  the  First,  and  wondering  at 
the  world.  My  grand  uncle  is  a  good  Tory  and 
held  forth  eloquently,  as  we  stood  there.  Don't  tell 
my  mother !  but  privately,  my  dear  Colonel,  1  seem 
to  discover  in  myself  traces  of  Whiggism.  Whether 
it  be  nature,  or  your  influence,  or  the  air  of  Amer 
ica,  that  has  caused  it  to  grow,  I  know  not;  but 
there  it  is.  My  mother  would  be  very  seriously 
disturbed  if  she  suspected  the  fact.  As  to  my  fa 
ther,  I  really  never  discovered  to  my  satisfaction 
what  his  politics  are.  To  Mr.  Strahan  I  listen  rev 
erently.  It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  say  to  him 
all  that  comes  into  my  head.  But  it  came  into  my 
head  to-day,  as  I  stood  gazing  up  at  the  equestrian 
statue  at  Charing  Cross,  that  it  would  better  be 
come  the  English  people  to  have  John  Hampderi 
there  than  that  miserable  old  trickster,  Charles 
Stuart."— 

Esther  read  and  re-read. 

"  Papa,"  she  said  at  last,  "  what  is  a  Tory  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  party  name,  my  dear;  it  is  given  to  a  cer 
tain  political  party." 

"  You  are  not  a  Tory  ?  " 

"No!     If   I    had    been,    I    should   never   have 


178  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

found  my  way  here."  The  Colonel  said  it  with  a 
sigh. 

"  Then  I  suppose  you  are  a  Whig.  And  are  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Dallas  Tories  ?  " 

"  Humph! — Will  says  his  mother  is.  He  ought 
to  know." 

"  What  is  the  difference,  papa  ?  " 

"  My  dear  I  don't  know  that  you  can  understand. 
The  names  grew  up  in  the  old  days  when  the  Stuarts 
were  trying  to  get  all  the  power  of  the  government 
into  their  own  hands  and  to  leave  none  to  the  peo 
ple.  Those  who  stood  by  the  king,  through  thick 
and  thin,  were  called  Tories;  those  who  tried  to 
limit  him  and  guard  the  people's  liberties,  were 
Whigs." 

"  What  queer  names !  Papa,  are  there  Whigs 
and  Tories  in  England  now?  " 

"  What  are  called  so." 

"  Are  the  kings  still  trying  to  get  away  the  lib 
erties  of  the  people  ?  " 

"  No,  my  child.     Those  are  pretty  well  secured." 

"  And  here  we  have  no  king  at  all.  I  don't  see 
how  you  can  be  a  Whig,  or  Mrs.  Dallas  a  Tory." 

"There  are  always  the  two  parties.  One,  that 
sticks  by  the  government  and  aims  to  strengthen  its 
hands,  right  or  wrong;  and  the  other,  that  looks 
out  for  the  liberties  of  the  people  and  watches  that 
they  be  not  infringed  or  tampered  with." 

Esther  thought  a  while,  but  not  exclusively  over 
the  political  question. 

It  might  have  occurred  to  an  older  person  to 


STRUGGLES.  179 

wonder  how  William  Pitt  had  got  his  name,  from 
parents  who  were  both  Tories.  The  fact  was  that 
here  as  in  many  another  case,  money  was  the  solu 
tion  of  the  difficulty.  A  rich  relation  who  was  also 
a  radical  had  promised  a  fine  legacy  to  the  boy  if 
he  were  given  the  name  of  the  famous  Whig  states 
man  ;  and  Mr.  Mrs.  and  Dallas  had  swallowed  the 
pill  per  help  of  the  sugar.  About  this  Esther  knew 
nothing. 

"  Papa,"  she  said,  "  don't  you  think  Pitt  will  get 
so  fond  of  England  that  he  will  never  want  to  come 
back  ?  " 

"  It  would  not  be  strange  if  he  did." 

"  Is  England  so  much  better  than  America, 
papa?" 

"  It  is  England,  my  dear ! "  the  Colonel  said,  with 
an  expression  which  meant,  she  could  not  tell  what. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

COMFORT. 

THESE  letters  on  the  whole  did  not  comfort  Es 
ther.  The  momentary  intense  pleasure  was 
followed  by  inevitable  dull  reaction  and  contrast; 
and  before  she  had  well  got  over  the  effect  of  one 
batch  of  letters  another  came ;  and  she  was  kept  in 
a  perpetual  stir  and  conflict.  For  Pitt  proved  him 
self  a  good  correspondent,  although  it  was  June 
before  the  first  letter  from  his  parents  reached  him. 
So  he  reported,  writing  on  the  third  of  that  month ; 
and  told  that  the  Allied  Sovereigns  were  just  then 
leaving  Paris  for  a  visit  to  the  British  Capital,  and 
all  the  London  world  was  on  tiptoe.  "  Great  luck  for 
me  to  be  here  just  now,"  he  wrote ;  and  so  everybody 
at  home  agreed.  Mrs.  Dallas  grew  more  stately, 
Esther  thought,  with  every  visit  she  made  at  the 
Colonel's  house;  and  she  and  her  husband  made 
many.  It  was  a  necessity  to  have  some  one  to 
speak  to  about  Pitt  and  Pitt's  letters;  and  it  was 
urgent  likewise  that  Mrs.  Dallas  should  know  if 
letters  had  been  received  by  the  same  mail  at  this 

other  house.     She  always  found  out,  one  way  or 

(180) 


COMFORT.  181 

another;  and  then  she  would  ask,  "May  I  see?" — 
and  scan  with  eager  eyes  the  sheet  the  colonel  gen 
erally  granted  her.  Of  the  letters  to  Esther  noth 
ing  was  said,  but  Esther  lived  in  fear  and  trembling 
that  some  inadvertent  word  might  let  her  know  of 
their  existence. 

Another  necessity  which  brought  the  Dallases 
often  to  Col.  Gainsborough's  was  the  political  situ 
ation.  They  could  hardly  discuss  it  with  anybody 
else  in  Seaforth,  and  what  is  the  use  of  a  political 
situation  if  you  cannot  discuss  it?  All  the  rest 
of  the  families  in  the  neighbourhood  were  strong 
Americans;  and  even  Pitt  in  his  letters  was  more 
of  an  American  than  anything  else.  Indeed  so 
much  more,  that  it  gave  his  mother  sad  annoy 
ance.  He  told  of  the  temper  of  the  English  people 
at  this  juncture ;  of  the  demands  to  be  made  by  the 
English  government  before  they  would  hear  of 
peace;  of  a  strong  force  sent  to  Canada  and  the 
general  indignant  and  belligerent  tone  of  feeling 
and  speech  among  members  of  Parliament;  but 
Pitt  did  not  write  as  if  he  sympathized  with  it. 
"  He  has  lived  here  too  long  already  !  "  sighed  his 
mother. 

"  Not  if  he  is  destined  to  live  here  the  rest  of 
his  life,  my  dear  madam,"  said  the  colonel. 

"  He  will  not  do  that.  He  will  end  by  settling 
in  England." 

"  Will  may  have  his  own  views,  on  that  as  on 
some  other  things." 

"By  the  time  he  has  gone  through  the  University 


182  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

and  studied  for  his  profession,  he  will  be  more  of 
an  Englishman  than  of  an  American,"  Mr.  Dallas 
observed  contentedly.  "He  will  choose  for  him 
self." 

"  What  profession  ?  Have  you  fixed  upon  one  ? 
or  has  he  ?  " 

"  Time  enough  yet  for  that." 

"  But  your  property  lies  here." 

"  I  am  here  to  take  care  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Dallas, 
laughing  a  little. 

All  this  sort  of  talk,  which  Esther  heard  often, 
with  variations,  made  one  thing  clear  to  her ;  namely, 
that  if  it  depended  on  his  father  and  mother  Pitt's 
return  to  his  native  country  would  be  long  delayed 
or  finally  prevented.  It  did  not  entirely  depend 
on  them,  everybody  knew  who  knew  him;  never 
theless  it  seemed  to  Esther  that  the  fascinations 
of  the  old  world  must  be  great,  and  her  feeling  of 
the  distance  between  her  and  Pitt  grew  with  every 
letter.  It  was  not  the  fault  of  the  letters  or  of  the 
writer,  in  any  way,  nor  was  it  the  eifect  the  latter 
were  intended  to  produce;  but  Esther  grew  more 
and  more  despondent  about  him.  And  then,  after 
a  few  months  the  letters  became  short  and  rare. 
Pitt  had  gone  to  Oxford ;  and  from  the  time  of  his 
entering  the  University  plunged  head  and  ears  into 
business;  so  eagerly,  that  time  and  disposition  failed 
for  writing  home.  Letters  did  come,  from  time  to 
time ;  but  there  was  much  less  in  them ;  and  those 
for  Col.  Gainsborough  were  at  long  intervals.  So 
when  the  second  winter  of  Pitt's  absence  began  to 


COMFORT.  183 

set  in,  Esther  reckoned  him,  to  all  intents  and  pur 
poses,  lost  to  her  life. 

The  girl  went  with  increased  eagerness  and  in- 
tentness  to  the  one  resource  she  had, — her  Bible. 
The  cry  for  happiness  is  so  natural  to  the  human 
heart  that  it  takes  long  oppression  to  stifle  it.  The 
cry  was  strong  in  Esther's  young  nature,  strong 
and  imperative;  and  in  all  the  world  around  her 
she  saw  no  promise  of  help  or  supply.  The  spring 
at  which  she  had  slaked  her  thirst  was  dried  up ; 
the  desert  was  as  barren  to  her  eye  as  it  had  been 
to  Hagar's;  but  unlike  Hagar  she  sought  with  a 
sort  of  desperate  eagerness  in  one  quarter  where 
she  believed  water  might  be  found.  When  people 
search  in  that  way,  unless  they  get  discouraged, 
their  search  is  apt  to  come  to  something;  unless 
indeed  they  are  going  after  a  mirage ;  and  it  was 
no  mirage  that  hovered  before  Esther;  no  vision 
of  anything  indeed;  she  was  searching  into  the 
meaning  of  a  promise. 

And  as  I  said,  nobody  knew ;  nobody  helped  her ; 
the  months  of  that  winter  rolled  slowly  and  gloom 
ily  over  her.  Esther  was  between  fourteen  and 
fifteen  now;  her  mind  just  opening  to  a  conscious 
ness  of  its  powers  and  a  growing  dawn  of  its  pos 
sibilities.  Life  was  unfolding,  not  its  meaning, 
but  something  of  its  extent  and  richness  to  her; 
less  than  ever  could  she  content  herself  to  have  it 
a  desert.  The  study  went  on  all  through  the  win 
ter  with  no  visible  change  or  result.  But  with  the 
breaking  spring  the  darkness  and  ice-bound  state 


184  A  RED   WALLFLOWER. 

of  Esther's  mind  seemed  to  break  up  too.  Another 
look  came  into  the  girl's  face;  a  high  quiet  calm; 
a  light  like  the  light  of  the  spring  itself,  so  gracious 
and  tender  and  sweet.  Esther  was  changed.  The 
duties  which  she  had  done  all  along  with  a  dull 
punctuality,  were  done  now  with  a  certain  blessed 
alacrity ;  her  eye  got  its  life  of  expression  again ; 
and  a  smile,  more  sweet  than  any  former  ones  came 
readily  to  the  lips.  I  do  not  think  the  colonel 
noticed  all  this;  or  if  he  noticed  at  all,  he  simply 
thought  Esther  was  glad  of  the  change  of  season; 
the  winter  to  be  sure  had  kept  her  very  much  shut 
up.  The  servants  were  more  observing. 

"Do  you  know,  we're  a  goin'  to  have  a  beauty 
in  this  'ere  house?  "  inquired  Christopher  one  even 
ing  of  his  sister,  with  a  look  of  sly  search,  as  if  to 
see  whether  she  knew  it. 

"  Air  we  ?  "  asked  the  housekeeper. 

"A  beauty,  and  no  mistake.  Why  Sarah,  can't 
you  see  it  ?  " 

"I  sees  all  there  is  to  see  in  the  family,"  the 
housekeeper  returned  with  a  superior  air. 

"  Then  you  see  that.  She's  grown  and  changed 
uncommon,  within  a  year." 

"She's  a  very  sweet  young  lady,"  Mrs.  Barker 
agreed. 

"And  she's  goin'  to  be  a  stunner,  for  looks," 
Christopher  repeated,  with  that  same  sly  observa 
tion  of  his  sister's  face.  "  She'll  be  better  lookin' 
than  ever  her  mother  was." 

"Mrs.   Gainsborough  was  a  handsome  woman, 


COMFORT.  185 

too,"  said  the  housekeeper.  "  But  Miss  Esther's  very 
promising  you're  right  there;  she's  very  promisin'. 
She's  just  beginnin'  to  shew  what  she  will  be." 

"  She's  got  over  her  dumps  lately,  uncommon. 
I  judged  the  dumps  was  natural  enough,  sitiwated 
as  she  is;  but  she's  come  out  of 'em.  She's  openin' 
up  like  a  white  camellia;  and  there  aiiit  any  thin' 
that  grows  that  has  less  shadow  to  it;  though  may 
be  it  aint  what  you'd  call  a  gay  flower,"  added 
Christopher  thoughtfully. 

"  Is  that  them  stiff  white  flowers  as  has  no  smell 
to  'em  ?  " 

"  The  same,  Mrs.  Barker — if  you  mean  what  I 
mean." 

"  Then  I  wouldn't  liken  Miss  Esther  to  no  sich. 
She's  sweet,  she  is,  and  she  aint  noways  stiff.  She 
has  just  which  I  call  the  manners  a  young  lady  ought 
to  have." 

u  Can't  beat  a  white  camellia  for  manners,"  re 
sponded  Christopher  jocularly. 

So  the  servants  saw  what  the  father  did  not.  I 
think  he  hardly  knew  even  that  Esther  was  grow 
ing  taller. 

One  evening  in  the  spring,  Esther  was  as  usual 
making  tea  for  her  father.  As  usual  also  the  tea 
time  was  very  silent.  The  colonel  sometimes  car 
ried  on  his  reading  alongside  of  his  teacup;  at 
other  times  perhaps  he  pondered  what  he  had 
been  reading. 

"  Papa,"  said  Esther  suddenly,  "  would  it  be  any 
harm  if  I  wrote  a  letter  to  Pitt  ?  " 


186  A  RED   WALLFLOWER. 

The  colonel  did  not  answer  at  once. 

"  Do  you  want  to  write  to  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  papa;  I  would  like  it — I  would  like  to 
write  once." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  write  to  him  for  ?  " 

"  I  would  like  to  tell  him  something,  that  I  think 
it  would  please  him  to  hear." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  It  is  just  something  about  myself,  papa,"  Esther 
said  a  little  hesitatingly. 

"  You  may  write,  and  I  will  enclose  it  in  a  letter 
of  mine." 

"Thank  you,  papa." 

A  day  or  two  passed,  and  then  Esther  brought 
her  letter.  It  was  closed  and  sealed.  The  colonel 
took  it  and  turned  it  over. 

"  There's  a  good  deal  of  it,"  he  remarked.  "  Was 
it  needful  to  use  so  many  words  ?  " 

"  Papa,—"  said  Esther  hesitating,  "  I  didn't  think 
about  how  many  words  I  was  using." 

"  You  should  have  had  thinner  paper.  Why  did 
you  seal  it  up  ?  " 

"  Papa,  I  didn't  think  about  that  either.  I  only 
thought  it  had  got  to  be  sealed." 

"You  did  not  wish  to  hinder  my  seeing  what 
you  had  written  ?  " 

"No,  papa — "  said  Esther  a  little  slowly. 

"  That  will  do."  And  he  laid  the  letter  on  one 
side,  and  Esther  supposed  the  matter  was  disposed 
of.  But  when  she  had  kissed  him  and  gone  off 
to  bed,  the  colonel  brought  the  letter  before  him 


COMFORT.  187 

again,  looked  at  it  and  finally  broke  the  seal  and 
opened  it.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  it,  as  he  had 
remarked. 

"8eaforth,  May  11,  1815. 
"  MY  DEAR  PITT, 

"  Papa  has  given  me  leave  to  write  a  letter  to 
you;  and  I  wanted  to  write,  because  I  have  some 
thing  to  tell  you  that  I  think  you  will  be  glad  to 
hear.  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  tell  it  very  well,  for  I 
am  not  much  accustomed  to  writing  letters;  but  I 
will  do  as  well  as  I  can. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  take  me  some  time  to  say 
what  I  want  to  say.  I  cannot  put  it  in  two  or 
three  sentences.  You  must  have  patience  with 
me. 

"Do  you  remember  my  telling  you  once  that  I 
wanted  comfort  ?  And  do  you  remember  my  ask 
ing  you  once  about  the  meaning  of  some  words  in. 
the  Bible,  where  I  was  looking  for  comfort,  because 
mamma  said  it  was  the  best  place  ?  We  were  sit 
ting  in  the  verandah,  one  afternoon.  You  had  been 
away,  to  New  Haven,  and  were  home  for  vacation. 
'  "  Well,  I  partly  forgot  about  it  that  summer,  I 
was  so  happy.  You  know  what  a  good  time  we 
had  with  everything,  and  I  forgot  about  wanting 
comfort.  But  after  you  went  away,  that  autumn, 
to  Lisbon  and  to  England,  then  the  want  came 
back.  You  were  very  good  about  writing,  and  1 
enjoyed  your  letters  very  much;  and  yet,  somehow, 
every  one  seemed  to  make  me  feel  a  little  worse 


188  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

than  I  did  before.  That  is,  after  the  first  bit,  you 
know.  For  an  hour  perhaps,  while  I  was  reading 
it,  and  reading  it  the  second  time,  and  thinking 
about  it,  I  was  almost  perfectly  happy;  the  letters 
seemed  to  bring  you  near;  but  when  just  that  first 
hour  was  passed,  they  made  you  seem  further  off 
than  ever;  further  off  every  time.  And  then  the 
want  of  comfort  came  back,  and  I  did  not  know 
where  to  get  it.  There  was  nobody  to  ask,  and  no 
help  at  all,  if  I  could  not  find  it  in  the  Bible.  All 
that  winter,  and  all  the  summer,  last  summer  that 
was,  and  all  the  first  part  of  this  last  winter,  I  did  not 
know  what  to  do,  I  wanted  comfort  so.  I  thought 
maybe  you  would  never  come  back  to  Seaforth  again ; 
and  you  know  there  is  nobody  else  here,  and  I  was 
quite  alone.  I  never  do  see  anybody  but  papa;  ex 
cept  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas,  who  come  here  once  in 
a  while.  So  I  went  to  the  Bible.  I  read,  and  I 
thought. 

"  Do  you  remember  those  words  I  once  asked 
you  about  ?  Perhaps  you  do  not,  so  I  will  write 
them  down  here.  '  The  Lord  make  his  face  shine 
upon  thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee.  The  Lord 
lift  up  his  countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  the'e 
peace.'  Those  are  the  words. 

"Do  you  remember  what  you  said  at  that  time, 
about  the  pleasure  of  seeing  a  face  that  looks 
brightly  and  kindly  upon  one?  only  you  did  not 
know  how  that  could  be  true  of  God,  because  we 
cannot  really  see  his  face  ?  Well,  I  thought  a  great 
deal  about  that.  You  see,  there  are  the  words;  and 


COMFORT.  189 

so,  I  thought,  the  thing  must  be  possible  somehow, 
and  there  must  be  some  way  in  which  they  can  be 
true,  or  the  Bible  would  not  say  so.  I  began  to 
pray  that  the  Lord  would  make  his  face  shine  upon 
me.  Then  I  remembered  another  thing.  It  is  only 
the  faces  we  love  that  we  care  about  seeing — I 
mean,  that  we  care  about  so  very  much;  and  it  is 
only  the  faces  that  love  us  that  can  '  shine '  upon 
us.  But  I  did  not  love  God,  for  I  did  not  know 
him ;  and  I  knew  he  could  not  love  me,  for  he  knew 
me  too  well.  So  I  began  to  pray  a  different  prayer. 
I  asked  that  God  would  teach  me  to  love  him,  and 
make  me  such  a  person  that  he  could  love  me.  It 
was  all  very  dark  and  confused  before  my  mind;  I 
think  I  was  like  a  person  groping  about  and  feel 
ing  for  things  he  cannot  see.  It  was  very  miser 
able,  for  I  had  no  comfort  at  all ;  and  the  days  arid 
the  nights  were  all  sad  and  dark,  only  I  kept  a 
little  bit  of  hope. 

"  Then  I  must  tell  you  another  thing.  I  had  been 
doing  nothing  but  praying  and  reading  the  Bible. 
But  one  day  I  came  to  these  words,  which  struck 
me  very  much.  They  are  in  the  fourteenth  chapter 
of  John. 

"  '  He  that  hath  my  commandments,  and  keepeth 
them,  he  it  is  that  loveth  me;  and  he  that  loveth 
me  shall  be  loved  of  my  Father;  and  I  will  love 
him,  and  will  manifest  myself  to  him.' 

"Do  you  notice  those  last  words?  That  is  like 
making  the  face  shine,  or  lifting  up  the  counte 
nance  upon  a  person.  But  then  I  saw,  that  to  get 


190  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

that,  which  I  wanted.  I  must  keep  his  commandments. 
I  hardly  knew  what  they  were,  and  I  began  to  read 
to  find  out.  I  had  been  only  looking  for  comfort 
before.  And  as  fast  as  I  found  out  one  of  His  com 
mands,  I  began  to  do  it,  as  far  as  I  could.  Pitt, 
his  commandments  are  such  beautiful  things  ! 

"  And  then,  I  don't  know  how  it  came  or  when 
it  came,  exactly,  but  I  began  to  see  his  face.  And 
it  began  to  shine  upon  me.  And  the  darkness  be 
gan  to  go  away,  And  now,  Pitt,  this  is  what  I 
wanted  to  tell  you,  1  have  found  comfort.  I  am 
not  dark,  and  I  don't  feel  alone  any  more.  The 
promise  is  all  true.  I  think  He  has  manifested 
himself  to  me;  for  I  am  sure  I  know  him  a  little, 
and  I  love  him  a  great  deal ;  and  everything  seems 
changed.  It  is  so  changed,  Pitt.  I  am  happy  now, 
and  contented,  and  things  seem  beautiful  to  me 
again,  as  they  used  to  do  when  you  were  here,  only 
even  more,  I  think. 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  glad  to  know  it,  and 
so  I  have  written  all  this  long  letter;  and  my 
fingers  are  really  tired. 

"  Your  loving  friend, 

"  ESTHER  GAINSBOROUGH." 

The  colonel  read  this  somewhat  peculiar  docu 
ment  with  wondering  attention.  He  got  to  the 
end,  and  began  again,  with  his  mind  in  a  good  deal 
of  confusion.  A  second  reading  left  him  more  con 
fused  than  the  first,  and  he  began  the  third  time. 
What  did  Esther  mean  by  this  want  of  comfort  ? 


COMFORT.  191 

How  could  she  want  comfort  ?  And  what  was  this 
strange  thing  that  she  had  found  ?  And  how  came 
she  to  be  pouring  out  her  mind  in  this  fashion  to 
Pitt,  to  him  of  all  people  ?  The  colonel  was  half 
touched,  half  jealous,  half  awed.  What  had  his  child 
learned,  in  her  strange,  solitary  Bible  study  ?  He 
had  heard  of  religious  ecstasies,  and  religious  enthu 
siasts;  devotees;  people  set  apart  by  a  singular  ex 
perience;  was  his  Esther  possibly  going  to  be 
anything  like  that?  He  did  not  wish  it.  He 
wanted  her  certainly  to  be  a  good  woman,  and  a 
religious  woman;  he  did  not  want  her  to  be  ex 
travagant.  And  this  sounded  extravagant,  even 
visionary.  How  had  she  got  it  ?  What  had  Pitt 
Dallas  to  do  with  it  ?  Was  it  for  want  of  him  that 
Esther  had  set  up  such  a  cry  for  comfort  ?  The 
colonel  liked  nothing  of  all  the  questions  that 
started  up  in  his  mind;  and  the  only  satisfactory 
thing  was  that  in  some  way  Esther  seemed  to  be 
feeling  happy.  But  her  father  did  not  want  her 
to  be  given  over  to  a  visionary  happiness,  which 
in  the  end  would  desert  her.  He  sat  up  a  long 
time  reading  and  brooding  over  the  letter.  Finally 
he  closed  it  arid  sealed  it  again,  and  resolved  to  let 
it  go  off,  and  to  have  a  talk  with  his  daughter. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

BEST  AND  UNBEST. 

IT  cost  the  colonel  a  strange  amount  of  trouble  to 
get  to  that  talk.  For  an  old  soldier  and  man 
of  the  world  to  ask  a  little  innocent  girl  about  her 
meaning  of  words  she  had  written,  would  seem  a 
simple  matter  enough;  but  there  was  something 
about  it  that  tied  the  colonel's  tongue.  He  could 
not  bring  himself  to  broach  the  subject  at  break 
fast,  with  the  clear  homely  daylight  streaming 
upon  the  breakfast  table,  and  Esther  moving  about 
and  attending  to  her  usual  morning  duties;  all  he 
could  do  was  to  watch  her  furtively.  This  creature 
was  growing  up  out  of  his  knowledge;  he  looked 
to  see  what  outward  signs  of  change  might  be 
visible.  He  saw  a  fair,  slim  girl,  no  longer  a  little 
girl  certainly,  with  a  face  that  still  was  his  child's 
face  he  thought.  And  yet,  as  he  looked,  he  slowly 
came  to  the  conviction  that  it  was  the  face  of  some 
thing  more  than  a  child.  The  old  simplicity  and 
the  old  purity,  were  there  indeed;  but  now  there 
was  a  blessed  calm  upon  the  brow,  and  the  calm 
ness  had  a  certain  lofty  quality;  and  the  sweetness, 
(192) 


REST  AND  UNREST.  193 

which  was  more  than  ever,  was  refined  and  deep. 
It  was  not  the  sweetness  of  hilarious  childhood, 
but  something  that  had  a  more  distant  source  than 
childhood  draws  from.  The  colonel  eat  his  break 
fast  without  knowing  what  he  was  eating;  how 
ever,  he  could  not  talk  to  Esther  at  that  time.  He 
waited  till  evening  had  come  round  again,  and 
the  lamp  was  lit,  and  he  was  taking  his  toast  and 
tea,  with  Esther  ministering  to  him  in  her  wonted 
course. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Esther?"  he  began  suddenly. 

"  Near  fifteen,  papa." 

.*  Fifteen!— Humph!" 

"  Why,  papa  ?     Had  you  forgotten  ?  " 

"At  the  moment." — Then  he  began  again.  "I 
sent  your  letter  off." 

"Thank  you,  papa." 

"It  was  sealed  up.  Why  did  you  seal  it?  Did 
you  mean  rne  not  to  read  it?" 

Esther's  eyes  opened.  "  I  never  thought  about 
it,  papa.  I  didn't  know  you  would  care  to  read 
it.  I  thought  it  must  be  sealed,  and  I  sealed  it." 

<k  I  did  care  to  read  it,  so  I  opened  it.  Had  you 
any  objection  ?  " 

"  No,  papa !  "  said  Esther,  wondering. 

"And  having  opened  it,  I  read  it.  I  did  not 
quite  understand  it,  Esther." 

Esther  made  no  reply. 

"What  do  you  want  comfort  so  much  for, — my 
child?  I  thought  you  were  happy — as  happy  as 
other  children." 


194  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"I  am  happy  now,  papa;  more  happy  than  other 
children." 

"  But  you  were  not  ?  " 

"No  papa;  for  a  while  I  was  not." 

"  Why  ?  What  did  you  want,  that  you  had  not  ? 
— except  your  mother,"  the  colonel  added,  with  a 
sigh  of  consciousness  that  there  might  be  a  miss 
ing  something  there. 

" 1  was  not  thinking  of  her,  papa,"  Esther  said 
slowly. 

"  Of  what  then  ? "  The  colonel  was  intensely 
curious. 

"  I  was  very  happy,  as  long  as  Pitt  was  at  home." 

"  William  Dallas  !  But  what  is  he  to  you  ?  he's 
a  collegian,  and  you  are  a  little  girl." 

"  Papa,  the  collegian  was  very  kind  to  the  little 
girl,"  Esther  said,  with  a  smile  that  was  very  bright 
and  also  merry  with  a  certain  sense  of  humour. 

"  I  grant  it;  still — it  is  unreasonable —  And  was 
it  because  he  was  gone,  that  you  wanted  comfort  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  want  it,  or  I  didn't  know  that  I  wanted 
it,  while  he  was  here." 

"  People  that  don't  know  they  need  comfort,  do 
not  need  it,  I  fancy.  You  draw  tine  distinctions. 
Well,  go  on,  Esther.  You  have  found  it,  your 
letter  says." 

"  0  yes,  papa." 

"  My  dear,  1  do  not  understand  you ;  and  I  should 
like  to  understand.  Can  you  tell  me  what  you 

?ta 
. 

As  he  raised  his  eyes  to  her,  he  saw  a  look  come 


REST  AND  UNREST.  '  195 

over  her  face  that  he  could  as  little  comprehend  as 
he  could  comprehend  her  letter;  a  look  of  surprise 
at  him,  mingled  with  a  sudden  shine  of  some  inner 
light.  She  was  moving  about  the  tea-table;  she 
came  round  and  stood  in  front  of  her  father,  full 
in  view. 

"  Papa,  I  thought  my  letter  explained  it.  I  mean, 
that  now  I  have  come  to  know  the  Lord  Jesus." 

"  Now  ?  My  dear,  I  was  under  the  impression 
that  you  had  been  taught  and  had  known  the 
truths  of  the  gospel  all  your  life  ?  " 

"0  yes,  papa;  so  I  was.     The  difference" — 

"Well?" 

"The  difference,  papa,  is,  that  now  I  know 
him." 

"Him?     Whom?" 

"  I  mean,  Jesus,  papa." 

"  How  do  you  know  Him  ?  Do  you  mean  that 
lately  you  have  begun  to  think  about  him  ?  " 

"  No,  papa,  I  had  been  thinking  a  great  while." 

"And  now?"— 

"Now  I  have  come  to  know  him." 

That  Esther  knew  what  she  meant  was  evident; 
it  was  equally  plain  that  the  colonel  did  not.  He 
was  puzzled,  and  did  not  like  to  shew  it  too  fully. 
The  one  face  was  shining  with  clearness  arid  glad 
ness;  the  other  was  dissatisfied  and  perplexed. 

"  My  dear,  I  do  not  understand  you,"  the  colonel 
said  after  a  pause.  "  Have  you  been  reading  mys 
tical  books  ?  I  did  not  know  there  were  any  in  the 
house." 


196'  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  I  have  been  reading  only  the  Bible,  papa ;  and 
that  is  not  mystical." 

"  Your  language  sounds  so." 

"Why  no,  papa!  I  do  not  mean  anything 
mystical." 

"  Will  you  explain  yourself?  " 

Esther  paused,  thinking  how  she  should  do  this. 
When  one  has  used  the  simplest  words  in  one's  vo 
cabulary,  and  is  called  upon  to  expound  them  by 
the  use  of  others  less  simple,  the  task  is  somewhat 
critical.  The  colonel  watched  with  a  sort  of  dis 
turbed  pleasure  the  thoughtful  clear  brow,  the 
grave  eyes  which  had  become  so  sweet.  The 
intelligence  at  work  there,  he  saw,  was  no  longer 
that  of  a  child;  the  sweetness  was  no  longer  the 
blank  of  unconscious  ignorance,  but  the  wisdom 
of  some  blessed  knowledge.  What  did  she  know, 
that  was  hidden  from  his  experience  ? 

"Papa,  it  is  very  difficult  to  tell  you,"  Esther  be 
gan.  "I  used  to  know  about  the  things  in  the 
Bible,  and  I  had  learned  whole  chapters  by  heart; 
but  that  was  all.  I  did  not  know  much  more  than 
the  name  of  Christ, — and  his  history,  of  course, — 
and  his  words." — 

"What  more  could  you  know?"  inquired  the 
colonel  in  increasing  astonishment. 

"That's  just  it,  papa;  I  did  not  know  himself. 
You  know  what  you  mean  when  you  say  you  don't 
know  somebody.  I  mean  just  that." 

"  But  Esther,  that  sounds  to  me  very  like — very 
like — an  improper  use  of  language,"  said  the 


REST  AND  UNREST.  197 

colonel  stammering.     "  How  can  you  know  Him,  as 
you  speak  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you,  papa.     I  think  he  shewed  him 
self  to  me." 

"  Shewed  himself!  Do  you  mean,  in  a  vision  ?  " 
"0  no,  papa!"  said  Esther  smiling.  "I  have 
not  seen  his  face,  not  literally.  But  he  has  some 
how  shewed  me  how  good  he  is,  and  how  glorious; 
and  has  made  me  understand  how  he  loves  me,  and 
how  he  is  with  me;  so  that  I  do  not  feel  alone  any 
more.  I  don't  think  I  ever  shall  feel  alone  again." 
Was  this  extravagance  ?  The  colonel  pondered. 
It  seemed  to  him  a  thing  to  be  rebuked  or  re 
pressed;  he  knew  nothing  of  this  kind  in  his  own 
religious  experience;  he  feared  it  was  visionary  and 
fanciful.  But  when  he  looked  at  Esther's  face  the 
words  died  on  his  tongue  which  he  would  have 
spoken.  Those  happy  eyes  were  so  strong  in  their 
wistfulness,  so  grave  in  their  happiness,  that  they 
forbade  the  charge  of  folly  or  fancifulness;  nay, 
they  were  looking  at  something  which  the  colonel 
wished  he  could  himself  see,  if  the  sight  brought 
such  contentment.  They  stopped  his  mouth.  He 
could  not  say  what  he  thought  to  say,  and  his  own 
eyes  oddly  fell  before  them. 

"  What   does    William    Dallas   know   about   all 
this  V  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing,  papa.     I  don't  think  he  knows  it  at  all." 
"  Why  did  you  write  about  it  to  him,  then  V  " 
"  1  was  sure  lie  would   be  glad  for  me,  papa. 
Once,  a  good  while  ago,  I  asked  Pitt  what  could 


198  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

be  the  meaning  of  a  verse  in  the  Bible;  that  beauti 
ful  verse  in  Numbers;  and  he  could  not  tell  me, 
though  what  he  said  gave  me  a  great  help.  So  I 
knew  he  would  remember,  and  he  would  be  glad. 
And  I  want  him  to  know  Jesus  too." 

The  colonel  felt  a  little  twinge  of  jealousy  here; 
but  Esther  did  not  know,  he  reflected,  that  her  own 
father  was  in  equal  destitution  of  that  knowledge. 
Or  was  it  all  visionary  that  she  had  been  saying, 
and  his  view  of  religion  the  right  one  after  all  ? 
It  must  be  the  right  one.  Yet  his  religion  had 
.never  given  his  face  the  expression  that  shone  in 
Esther's  now.  It  almost  hurt  him. 

"  And  now  you  have  comfort  V  "  he  said  after  a 
moment's  pause. 

"  Yes,  papa.     More  than  comfort." 

"  Because  you  think  that  God  looks  upon  you 
with  favour." 

"  Because  I  love  him,  papa.  I  know  him  and  I 
love  him.  And  I  know  he  loves  me,  and  will  do 
everything  for  me." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  ?  "  asked  the  colonel  al 
most  harshly.  "That  sounds  to  me  rather  pre 
suming.  You  may  hope  it;  but  how  can  you  know 
it?" 

"  He  has  made  me  know  it,  papa.  And  he  has 
said  it  in  the  Bible.  I  just  believe  what  he  says." 

Col.  Gainsborough  gave  up  the  argument.  Be 
fore  Esther's  face  of  quiet  confidence  he  felt  him 
self  baffled.  If  she  were  wrong,  he  could  not  prove 
her  wrong.  Uneasy  and  worsted,  he  gave  up  the 


REST  AND  UNREST.  199 

discussion;  but  thought  he  would  not  have  any 
more  letters  go  to  William  Dallas. 

And  as  the  days  went  on,  he  watched  furtively 
his  daughter.  He  had  not  been  mistaken  in  his 
observations  that  evening.  A  steadfastness  of  sweet 
happiness  was  about  her,  beautifying  and  elevat 
ing  all  she  did  and  all  she  was.  Fair  quiet  on 
the  brow,  loving  gladness  on  the  lips,  and  hands 
of  ready  ministry.  She  had  always  been  a  dutiful 
child,  faithful  in  her  ministering;  but  now  the  ser 
vice  was  not  of  duty  but  of  love,  and  gracious 
accordingly,  as  the  service  of  duty  can  never  be. 
The  colonel  watched,  and  saw  something  of  the 
difference,  without  being  able  however  to  come 
at  a  satisfactory  understanding  of  it.  He  saw 
how  under  this  influence  of  love  and  gladness 
his  child  was  becoming  the  rarest  of  servants 
to  him;  and  more  still,  how  under  it  she  was 
developing  into  a  most  exquisite  personal  beauty. 
He  watched  her,  as  if  by  watching  he  might  catch 
something,  of  the  secret  mental  charm  by  virtue  of 
which  these  changes  were  wrought.  But  "the  se 
cret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  him  " ;  and 
it  cannot  be  communicated  from  one  to  another. 

As  has  been  mentioned,  Pitt's  letters  after  he  got 
to  work  at  Oxford  became  much  fewer  and  scantier. 
!t  was  only  at  very  rare  intervals  that  one  came  to 
Col.  Gainsborough;  and  Esther  made  no  proposition 
of  writing  to  England  again.  On  that  subject  the 
colonel  ceased  to  take  any  thought.  It  was  other 
wise  with  Pitt's  family. 


200  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Mrs.  Dallas  sat  one  evening  pondering  over  the 
last  letter  received  from  her  son.  It  was  early  au 
tumn;  a  little  fire  burning  in  the  chimney,  towards 
which  the  master  of  the  house  stretched  out  his 
legs,  lying  very  much  at  his  ease  in  an  old-fashioned 
chaise  lounge  and  turning  over  an  English  news 
paper.  His  attitude  bespoke  the  comfortable  ease 
and  carelessness  of  his  mind,  on  which  certainly 
nothing  lay  heavy.  His  wife  was  in  all  things  a 
contrast.  Her  handsome,  stately  figure  was  yield 
ing  at  the  moment  to  no  blandishments  of  comfort 
or  luxury;  she  sat  upright,  with  Pitt's  letter  in  her 
hand,  and  on  her  brow  there  was  an  expression  of 
troubled  consideration. 

44  Husband,"  she  said  at  length,  "do  you  notice 
how  Pitt  speaks  of  the  colonel  and  his  daughter  V  " 

"No — "  came  slowly  and  indifferently  from  the 
lips  of  Mr.  Dallas,  as  he  turned  the  pages  of  his 
newspaper. 

"  Don't  you  notice  how  he  asks  after  them  in 
every  letter,  and  wants  me  to  go  and  see  them?" 

"  Natural  enough.  Pitt  is  thinking  of  home,  and 
he  thinks  of  them; — part  of  the  picture." 

"That  boy  don't  forget !" 

"Give  him  time" — suggested  Mr.  Dallas,  with  a 
careless  yawn. 

"  He  has  had  some  time — a  year  and  a  half,  and 
in  Europe;  and  distractions  enough.  But  don't 
you  know  Pitt  ?  He  sticks  to  a  thing  even  closer 
than  you  do." 

"  If  he  cares  enough  about  it." 


•REST  AND  UNREST.  201 

"  That's  what  troubles  me,  Hildebrand.  I  am 
afraid  he  does  care.  If  he  comes  home  next  sum 
mer  and  finds  that  girl —  Do  you  know  how  she 
is  growing  up?  " 

"  That  is  the  worst  of  children,"  said  Mr.  Dallas 
in  the  same  lazy  way; — "  they  will  grow  up." 

"  By  next  summer  she  will  be — well,  I  don't  know 
how  old,  but  quite  old  enough  to  take  the  fancy 
of  a  boy  like  Pitt." 

"  I  know  Pitt's  age.  He  will  be  twenty-two. 
Old  enough  to  know  better.  He  isn't  such  a  fool." 

"Such  a  fool  as  what?"  asked  Mrs.  Dallas  sharply. 
uThat  girl  is  going  to  be  handsome  enough  to  take 
any  man's  fancy,  and  hold  it  too.  She  is  uncom 
monly  striking.  Don't  you  see  it  ?  " 

"  Humph! — yes,  1  see  it." 

"  Hildebrand,  I  do  not  want  him  to  marry  the 
daughter  of  a  dissenting  colonel,  with  not  money 
enough  to  dress  her." 

"  I  do  not  mean  he  shall." 

"  Then  think  how  you  are  going  to  prevent  it. 
Next  summer,  I  warn  you,  it  may  be  too  late." 

In  consequence  perhaps  of  this  conversation, 
though  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  Mr.  Dallas 
needed  its  suggestions,  he  strolled  over  after  tea 
to  Col.  Gainsborough's.  The  colonel  was  in  his 
usual  place  and  position;  Esther  sitting  at  the 
table  with  her  books.  Mr.  Dallas  eyed  her  as  she 
rose  to  receive  him,  noticed  the  gracious,  quiet 
manner,  the  fair  and  noble  face,  the  easy  move 
ment  and  fine  bearing;  and  turned  to  her  father 


202  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

with  a  strengthened  purpose  to  do  what  he  had 
come  to  do.  He  had  to  wait  awhile.  He  told  the 
news  of  Pitt's  last  letter ;  intimated  that  he  meant 
to  keep  him  in  England  till  his  studies  were  all 
ended;  and  then  went  into  a  discussion  of  politics, 
deep  and  dry.  When  Esther  at  last  left  the  room, 
he  made  a  sudden  break  in  the  discussion. 

"Colonel,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  that 
girl  of  yours  ?  " 

"  What  am  I  going  to  do  with  her  ?  "  repeated 
the  colonel  a  little  drily. 

"  Yes.  Forgive  me ;  I  have  known  her  all  her  life, 
you  know,  nearly.  I  am  concerned  about  Esther." 

"  In  what  way  ?  '' 

u  Well,  don't  take  it  ill  of  me;  but  I  do  not  like 
to  see  her  growing  up  so  without  any  advantages. 
She  is  such  a  beautiful  creature." 

Col.  Gainsborough  was  silent. 

"  I  take  the  interest  of  a  friend,"  Mr.  Dallas  went 
on.  "  I  have  a  right  to  so  much.  I  have  watched 
her  growing  up.  She  will  be  something  uncommon, 
you  know.  She  ought  really  to  have  everything 
that  can  help  to  make  humanity  perfect." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  ? "  the  colonel 
asked,  half  conscious  and  half  impatient. 

"  I  would  give  her  all  the  advantages  that  a  girl 
of  her  birth  and  breeding  would  have  in  the  old 
country." 

"  How  is  that  possible,  at  Seaforth  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  possible  at  Seaforth.  There  is  nothing 
here.  But  elsewhere  it  is  possible." 


REST  AND  UNREST.  203 

"  I  shall  never  leave  Seaforth,"  said  the  colonel 
doggedly. 

"  But  for  Esther's  sake  ?  Why  she  ought  to  be 
at  school  now,  colonel." 

"  I  shall  never  quit  Seaforth,"  the  other  repeated. 
*' I  do  not  expect  to  live  Jong  anywhere;  when  I 
die,  I  will  lie  by  my  wife's  side,  here." 

"You  are  not  failing  in  health,''  Mr.  Dallas  per 
sisted.  "  You  are  improving,  colonel ;  every  time 
I.  corne  to  see  you  I  am  convinced  of  it.  We  shall 
have  you  a  long  while  among  us  yet;  you  may 
depend  on  it."  » 

"  1  have  no  particular  reason  to  wish  you  may 
be  right.  And  I  see  myself  no  signs  that  you  are." 

"  You  have  your  daughter  to  live  for." 

"  She  will  be  taken  care  of.     I  have  little  fear." 

There  was  a  somewhat  grim  set  of  Mr.  Dallas's 
mouth  in  answer  to  this  speech ;  his  words  however 
were  "smoother  than  butter." 

"  You  need  have  no  fear,"  he  said.  "  Miss  Gains 
borough,  with  her  birth  and  beauty  and  breeding, 
will  do — what  you  must  wish  her  to  do, — marry 
some  one  well  able  to  take  care  of  her;  but, — you 
are  not  doing  her  justice,  colonel,  in  not  giving  her 
the  education  that  should  go  with  her  birth  and 
oreedin^.  1  speak  as  a  friend;  I  trust  you  will  not 
take  it  ill  of  me." 

"  I  cannot  send  her  to  England." 

"  You  do  not  need.  There  are  excellent  institu 
tions  of  learning  in  this  country  now." 

"  I  do  not  know  where." 


204  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  My  wife  can  tell  you.  She  has  some  knowledge 
of  such  things,  through  friends  who  have  daughters 
at  school.  She  could  tell  you  of  several  good  schools 
for  girls." 

"  Where  are  they  ? 

"  I  believe,  in  or  near  New  York." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  leave  Seaforth,"  said  the  colonel 
gloomily. 

"And  I  am  sure  we  do  not  wish  to  have  you 
leave  it,"  said  the  other  rising.  "It  would  be  a 
terrible  loss  to  us.  Perhaps,  after  all,  I  have  been 
officious;  and  you  are  giving  Esther  an  education 
more  than  equal  to  what  she  could  get  at  school." 

"  I  cannot  quit  Seaforth,"  the  colonel  repeated. 
"All  that  I  care  for  in  the  world  lies  here.  When 
I  have  done  with  the  world,  I  wish  to  lie  here  too ; 
and  till  then  I  will  wait." 

Mr.  Dallas  took  his  leave;  and  the  set  of  his 
mouth  was  grim  again  as  he  walked  home. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
MOVING. 

TV  T  R.  DALLAS'S  visitsbecame  frequent.  Hetalked 
1V1  of  a  great  variety  of  things,  but  never  failed 
to  bring  the  colonel's  mind  to  the  subject  of  Esther's 
want  of  education.  Indirectly  or  directly,  some 
how,  he  presented  to  the  colonel's  mind  that  one 
idea;  that  his  daughter  was  going  without  the  ad 
vantages  she  needed  and  ought  to  have.  It  was 
true,  and  the  colonel  could  not  easily  dispose  of  the 
thought  which  his  friend  so  persistently  held  up 
before  him.  Waters  wear  away  stones,  as  we  know 
to  a  proverb;  and  so  it  befel  in  this  case,  and  Mr. 
Dallas  knew  it  must.  The  colonel  began  to  grow 
uneasy.  He  often  reasserted  that  he  would  never 
leave  Seaforth ;  he  began  to  think  about  it  never 
theless. 

"  What  should  I  do  with  this  place  ?  "  he  asked 
one  evening  when  the  subject  was  up. 
"  What  do  you  wish  to  do  with  it? " 
"  I  wish  to  live  in  it  as  long  as  I  live  anywhere," 
said  the  colonel  sighing;  "but  you  say — and  per 
haps  you  are  right, — that  I  ought  to  be  somewhere 

(205) 


208  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

else  for  my  child's  sake.  In  that  case,  what  could 
I  do  with  my  place  here  ?  " 

"  I  ask  again,  what  do  you  wish  to  do  with  it  ? 
Would  you  let  it  ?  " 

"No,"  said  the  colonel  sighing  again;  "if  I  go 
I  must  sell.  My  means  will  not  allow  me  to  do 
otherwise." 

"  I  will  buy  it  of  you,  if  you  wish  to  sell." 

"You!  What  would  you  do  with  the  prop 
erty?" 

"Keep  it  for  you,  against  a  time  when  you  may 
wish  to  buy  it  back.  But  indeed  it  would  come 
very  conveniently  for  me.  I  should  like  to  have  it, 
for  my  own  purposes.  I  will  give  you  its  utmost 
value." 

The  colonel  pondered,  not  glad  perhaps  to  have 
difficulties  cleared  out  of  his  way.  Mr.  Dallas 
waited,  too  keen  to  press  his  point  unduly. 

"  I  should  have  to  go  and  reconnoitre,"  the  for 
mer  said  presently.  "  I  must  not  give  up  one  home 
till  I  have  another  ready.  I  never  thought  to  leave 
Seaforth  ! — Where  do  you  say  this  place  is  that  Mrs. 
Dallas  recommends?  " 

"  In  New  York.  The  school  is  said  to  be  partic 
ularly  good  and  thorough,  and  conducted  by  an  Eng 
lish  lady;  which  would  be  a  recommendation  to 
me,  as  I  suppose  it  is  to  you." 

"  I  should  have  to  find  a  house  in  the  neighbour 
hood,"  said  the  colonel  musing. 

Mr.  Dallas  said  no  more,  and  waited. 

"  I  must  go  and  see  what  I  can  find,"  the  colonel 


MOVING.  207 

repeated.  "  Perhaps  Mrs.  Dallas  will  be  so  good 
as  to  give  me  the  address  of  the  school  in  ques 
tion." 

Mrs.  Dallas  did  more  than  that.  She  gave  letters 
to  friends  and  addresses  of  more  than  one  school 
teacher:  and  the  end  was,  Col.  Gainsborough  set 
off  on  a  search.  The  search  was  successful.  He 
was  satisfied  with  the  testimonials  he  received  re 
specting  one  of  the  institutions  and  respecting  its 
head;  he  was  directed  by  some  of  Mr.  Dallas's  busi 
ness  friends  to  various  houses  that  might  suit  him  for 
a  residence;  and  among  them  made  his  choice,  and 
even  made  his  bargain,  and  came  home  with  the 
business  settled. 

Esther  had  spent  the  days  of  his  absence  in  a 
a  very  doubtful  mood,  not  knowing  whether  to  be 
glad  or  sorry,  to  hope  or  to  fear.  Seaforth  was  the 
only  home  she  had  ever  known;  she  did  not  like 
the  thought  of  leaving  it;'  but, — she  knew  by  this 
time  as  well  as  Mr.  Dallas  knew  that  she  needed 
more  advantages  of  education  than  Seaforth  could 
give  her.  On  the  whole  she  hoped. 

The  colonel  was  absent  several  days.  There  was 
no  telegraphing  in  those  times,  and  so  the  day  of 
his  return  could  not  be  notified ;  but  when  a  week 
had  passed,  Esther  began  to  look  for  him.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  ever  been  away  from  her,  and  so 
of  course  it  was  the  first  coming  home.  Esther 
felt  it  deserved  some  sort  of  celebration.  The  stage 
arrived  towards  evening,  she  knew. 

"  I  think  maybe  he  will  be  here  to-night,  Barker," 


208  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

she  said.     "  What  is  there  we  could  have  for  sup 
per,  that  papa  likes  particularly  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Esther,  the  colonel  favours  nothing 
more  than  another  as  I  know.  His  toast  arid  tea, 
that  is  all  he  cares  for  nights,  mostly." 

"Toast  and  tea! — "  said  Esther  disparagingly. 

"  It's  the  most  he  cares  for,  as  I  know,"  the  house 
keeper  repeated.  "  There's  them  quails  Mr.  Dallas 
sent  over;  they's  nice  and  fat,  and  to  be  sure  quails 
had  ought  to  be  eaten  immediate; — I  can  roast  two 
or  three  of  em,  if  you're  pleased  to  order  it;  but  the 
colonel,  it's  my  opinion  he  won't  care  what  you  have. 
The  gentlemen  learns  it  so  in  the  army,  I'm  thinkin'. 
The  colonel  never  did  give  himself  no  care  about 
what  he  had  for  dinner,  nor  for  no  other  time." 

Esther  knew  that;  however,sheorderedthe  quails; 
and  watched  eagerly  for  her  father.  He  came  too, 
that  same  evening.  But  the  quail  hardly  got  their 
deserts,  nor  Esther  neither,  for  that  matter.  The 
colonel  seemed  to  be  uriregardful  of  the  one  as 
much  as  of  the  other.  He  gave  his  child  a  sufficiently 
kind  greeting  indeed,  when  he  first  came  in;  but 
then  he  took  his  usual  seat  on  the  sofa,  without  his 
usual  book,  and  sat  as  if  lost  in  thought.  Tea  was 
served  immediately,  and  I  suppose  the  colonel  had 
had  a  thin  dinner,  for  he  consumed  a  quail  and  a 
half;  yet  satisfactory  as  this  was  in  itself,  Esther 
could  not  see  that  her  father  knew  what  he  was 
eating.  And  after  tea  he  still  neglected  his  book, 
and  sat  brooding,  with  his  head  leaning  on  his  hand. 
He  had  not  said  one  word  to  his  daughter  concern- 


MOVING.  209 

ing  the  success  or  non-success  of  his  mission ;  and 
eager  as  she  was,  it  was  not  in  accordance  with  the 
way  she  had  been  brought  up  that  she  should  ques 
tion  him.  She  asked  him  nothing,  further  than 
about  his  own  health  and  condition,  and  the  length 
and  character  of  his  journey ;  which  questions  were 
shortly  disposed  of;  and  then  the  colonel  sat  there 
with  his  head  in  his  hand,  doing  nothing  that  he 
was  wont  to  do.  Esther  feared  something  was 
troubling  him,  and  could  not  bear  to  leave  him  to 
himself.  She  came  near  softly,  and  very  softly  let 
her  finger  tips  touch  her  father's  brow  and  temples 
and  stroke  back  the  hair  from  them.  She  ventured 
no  more. 

Perhaps  Col.  Gainsborough  could  not  bear  so 
much.  Perhaps  he  was  reminded  of  the  only  other 
fingers  which  had  had  a  right  since  his  boyhood 
to  touch  him  so.  Yet  he  would  not  repel  the  gen 
tle  hand,  and  to  avoid  doing  that  he  did  another 
very  uncommon  thing;  he  drew  Esther  down  into 
his  arms  and  put  her  on  his  knee,  leaning  his  head 
against  her  shoulder.  It  was  exceeding  pleasant 
to  the  girl,  as  a  touch  of  sympathy  and  confidence; 
however,  for  that  night  the  confidence  went  no 
farther;  the  colonel  said  nothing  at  all.  He  was 
in  truth  overcome  with  the  sadness  of  leaving  his 
home  and  his  habits  and  the  place  of  his  wife's 
grave.  As  he  reentered  Seaforth  and  entered  his 
house,  this  sadness  had  come  over  him;  he  could 
not  shake  it  off;  indeed  he  did  not  try ;  he  gave  him 
self  up  to  it,  and  forgot  Esther,  or  rather  forgot 


210  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

what  he  owed  her.  And  Esther,  who  had  done 
what  she  could,  sat  still  on  her  father's  knee,  till 
she  was  weary  and  wished  he  would  release  her. 
Yet  perhaps,  she  thought,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  him 
to  have  her  there,  and  she  would  not  move  or  speak. 
So  they  remained  until  it  was  past  Esthers  bed 
time. 

u  I  think  I  will  go  now,  papa,"  she  said.  "  It  is 
getting  late." 

lie  kissed  her  and  let  her  go. 

But  next  morning  the  colonel  was  himself  again; 
himself  as  if  he  had  never  been  away,  only  he  had 
his  news  to  tell;  and  he  told  it  in  orderly  business 
fashion. 

"I  have  taken  a  house,  Esther,"  he  said;  "and 
now  I  wish  to  get  moved  as  soon  as  possible.  You 
must  tell  Barker,  and  help  her." 

"  Certainly,  papa.  Whereabouts  is  the  house 
you  have  taken  ?  " 

"  On  York  Island.  It  is  about  a  mile  out  of 
the  city — on  the  bank  of  the  river;  a  very  pretty 
situation." 

"  Which  river,  papa  ?  " 

"The  Hudson." 

"  And  am  I  to  go  to  school  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  That  is  the  purpose  of  the  move 
ment.  You  are  to  enter  Miss  Fairbairn's  school, 
in  New  York.  It  is  the  best  there,  by  all  I  can 
gather." 

"Thank  you,  papa.  Then  it  is  not  near  our 
new  house  ?  " 


MOVING.  211 

"  No.  You  will  have  to  drive  there  and  back. 
I  have  made  arrangements  for  that." 

"  Won't  that  cost  a  good  deal,  papa  ?  " 

"  Not  so  much  as  to  live  in  the  city  would  cost. 
And  we  are  accustomed  to  the  country ;  it  will  be 
pleasanter." 

"  0  much  pleasanter !  What  will  be  done  with 
this  house,  papa  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Dallas  takes  it,  and  the  place,  off  my 
hands." 

Esther  did  not  like  that ;  why,  she  could  not  pos 
sibly  have  told.  For  to  be  sure,  what  could  be 
better  ? 

"Will  he  buy  it?" 

"Yes,  he  buys  it." 

Again  a  little  pause.  Then — "  What  will  become 
of  the  furniture  and  everything,  papa?" 

"That  must  be  packed  to  go.  The  house  I 
have  taken  is  empty.  We  shall  want  all  we  have 
got." 

Esther's  eye  went  round  the  room.  Everything 
to  be  packed !  She  stood  like  a  young  general, 
surveying  her  battlefield. 

"Then,  papa,  you  never  mean  to  come  back  to 
Seaforth  again  ?  " 

The  colonel  sighed.  "Yes,  when  I  die,  Esther. 
I  wish  my  bones  to  be  laid  here." 

He  said  no  more.  Having  made  his  communi 
cations,  he  took  up  his  book ;  his  manner  evidently 
saying  to  Esther  that  in  what  came  next  he  had 
no  particular  share.  But  could  it  be  that  he 


212  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

was  leaving  it  all  to  her  inexperience  ?     Was  it  to 
be  her  work,  and  depend  on  her  wisdom  ? 

"  Papa,  you  said  we  were  to  move  soon; — do  you 
wish  me  to  arrange  with  Barker  about  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  dear,  yes;  tell  her,  and  arrange  with 
her.  I  wish  to  make  the  change  as  early  as  pos 
sible,  before  the  weather  becomes  unfavourable; 
arid  I  wish  you  to  get  to  school  immediately.  It 
cannot  be  too  soon,  tell  Barker." 

So  he  was  going  to  leave  it  all  to  her!  On 
ordinary  occasions  he  was  wont  to  consider  Esther 
a  child  still ;  now  it  was  convenient  to  suppose  her 
a  woman.  He  did  not  put  it  so  to  himself;  it  is 
some  men's  way.  Esther  went  slowly  to  the  kitchen, 
and  informed  Barker  of  what  was  before  her. 

"An'  it's  mor'n  the  middle  of  October" — was  the 
housekeeper's  comment. 

"That's  very  good  time,"  said  Esther. 
"You're  right,  Miss  Esther,  and  so  it  is,  if  we 
was  all  ready  this  minute.  All  aint  done  when 
you  are  moved,  Miss  Esther;  there's  the  other  house 
to  settle;  and  it'll  take  a  good  bit  o'  work  before 
we  get  so  far  as  to  that." 

"  Papa  wants  us  to  be  as  quick  as  we  can." 
"  We'll  be  as  quick  as  two  pair  o'  hands  is  able 
for,  I'll  warrant;  but  that  aint  as  if  we  was  a  dozen. 
There's  every  iridivviddle  thing  to  put  up,  Miss  Es 
ther,  from  our  chairs  to  our  beds;  and  books,  and 
china,  and  all.  I'll  go  at  the  china  fust  of  all,  and 
to-day." 

"  And  what  can  I  do,  Barker  ?  " 


MOVING.  213 

"  I  don'  know,  Miss  Esther.  You  haint  110  ex 
perience;  and  experience  is  somethin'  you  can't  buy 
in  the  shops — even  if  there  was  any  shops  here  to 
speak  of.  But  Christopher  and  me,  we'll  manage 
it,  I'll  warrant.  The  colonel's  quite  right.  This 
aint  no  place  for  you  no  longer.  We'll  see  and 
get  moved  as  quick  as  we  can,  Miss  Esther." 

Without  experience,  however,  it  was  found  that 
Esther's  share  of  the  next  weeks  of  work  was  a 
very  important  one.  She  packed  up  the  clothes, 
and  the  books;  and  she  did  it  "real  uncommon," 
the  housekeeper  said ;  but  that  was  the  least  part. 
She  kept  her  father  comfortable,  letting  none  of 
the  confusion  and  as  little  as  possible  of  the  dust 
come  into  the  room  where  he  was.  She  stood  in 
the  gap  when  Barker  was  in  the  thick  of  some  job, 
and  herself  prepared  her  father's  soup  or  got  his 
tea.  Thoughtful,  quiet,  diligent,  her  head,  young 
as  it  was,  proved  often  a  very  useful  help  to  Bar 
ker's  experience;  and  something  about  her  smooth 
composure  was  a  stay  to  the  tired  nerves  of  her 
subordinates.  Though  Christopher  Bounder  really 
had  no  nerves;  yet  he  felt  the  influence  I  speak  of. 

"Aint  our  Miss  Esther  growed  to  be  a  stunner, 
though ! "  he  remarked  more  than  once. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  rightly  know  what  you  mean, 
Christopher,"  his  sister  answered! 

"  Well,  I  tell  you  she's  an  uncommon  handsome 
young  lady,  Sarah.  An'  she  has  the  real  way  with 
her;  the  real  thing,  she  has." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 


214  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  I'll  wager  a  cucumber  you  can  tell,"  said  Chris 
topher,  shutting  up  his  eyes  slyly.  "  There  aint  no 
flesh  and  blood  round  in  these  parts  like  that; — no 
more'ii  a  cabbage  aint  like  a  camellia.  An'  that 
don't  tell  it.-  She's  that  dainty  and  sweet  as  a 
camellia  never  was — not  as  ever  I  see;  and  she 
has  that  fine,  soft  way  with  her,  that  is  like  the 
touch  of  a  feather,  and  yet  aint  soft  neither  if  you 
come  to  go  agin  it.  I  tell  you  what,  Sarah,  that 
shews  blood,  that  does,"  concluded  Christopher 
with  a  competent  air.  "  Our  young  lady,  she's  the 
real  thing.  You  and  me,  now,  we  couldn't  be  like 
that  if  we  was  to  die  for  it.  That's  blood,  that  is." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  housekeeper.  "  She  is 
sweet,  uncommon ;  and  she  is  gentle  enough,  and 
she  has  a  will  of  her  own,  too ;  but  I  don't  know — 
she  didn't  use  for  to  be  just  so." 

"  'Cause  she's  growiri'  up  to  years,"  said  the  gar 
dener.  "  La,  Sally,  folks  is  like  vegetables,  uncom 
mon;  you  must  let  'em  drop  their  rough  leaves, 
before  you  can  see  what  they're  goin'  to  be." 

"  There  warn't  never  no  rough  leaves  nor  rough 
anything,  about  Miss  Esther.  I  can't  say  as  I 
knows  what  you  mean,  Christopher." 

"  A  woman  needn't  to  know  everything,"  re 
sponded  her  brother  with  superiority;  "and  the 
natural  world  to  be  sure  aint  your  department, 
Sarah.  You're  good  for  a  great  deal  where  you  be." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  NEIGHBOUR. 

packing  and  sending  off  of  boxes  was  ended 
1  at  last;  and  the  bare,  empty,  echoing,  forlorn 
house  seemed  of  itself  to  eject  its  inhabitants.  When 
it  came  to  that,  everybody  was  ready  to  go.  Mrs. 
Barker  lamented  that  she  could  not  go  on  before 
the  rest  of  the  family,  to  prepare  the  place  a  bit  for 
them ;  but  that  was  impossible ;  they  must  all  go 
together. 

It  was  the  middle  of  November  when  at  last  the 
family  made  their  flitting.  They  had  no  dear 
friends  to  leave,  and  nothing  particular  to  regret, 
except  that  one  low  mound  in  the  churchyard ;  yet 
Esther  felt  sober  as  they  drove  away.  The  only 
tangible  reason  for  this  on  which  her  thoughts 
could  fix,  was  the  fact  that  she  was  going  away 
from  the  place  where  Pitt  Dallas  was  at  home,  and 
to  which  he  would  come  when  he  returned  from 
England.  She  would  then  be  afar  off.  Yet  there 
would  be  nothing  to  hinder  his  coming  to  see  them 
in  their  new  home;  so  the  feeling  did  not  seem  well 
justified.  Besides  that,  Esther  also  had  a  somewhat 

(215) 


216  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

vague  sense  that  she  was  leaving  the  domain  of 
childhood  and  entering  upon  the  work  and  sphere 
of  a  woman.  She  was  just  going  to  school !  But 
perhaps  the  time  of  confusion  she  had  been  pass 
ing  through  might  have  revealed  to  her  that  she 
had  already  a  woman's  life-work  on  her  hands. 
And  the  confusion  was  not  over,  and  the  work  only 
begun.  She  had  perhaps  a  dim  sense  of  this.  How 
ever  she  was  young;  and  the  soberness  was  cer 
tainly  mixed  with  gladness.  For  was  she  not  go 
ing  to  school,  and  so,  on  the  way  to  do  something 
of  the  work  Pitt  was  doing,  in  mental  furnishing 
and  improvement  ?  I  think,  gladness  had  the  upper 
hand. 

It  took  two  days  of  stage  travelling  to  get  them 
to  their  destination.  They  were  days  full  of  inter 
est  and  novelty  for  Esther;  eager  anticipation  and 
hope;  but  the  end  of  the  second  day  found  her  well 
tired.  Indeed  it  was  the  case  with  them  all.  Mrs. 
Barker  had  lamented  that  she  and  Christopher  were 
not  allowed  to  go  oif  some  time  before  "  the  family," 
so  as  to  have  things  in  a  certain  degree  of  readi 
ness  for  them ;  the  colonel  had  said  it  was  impos 
sible;  they  could  not  be  spared  from  Seaforth  until 
the  last  minute.  And  now  here  they  were  "  all  in 
a  heap,"  as  Mrs  Barker  expressed  it,  "to  be  tum 
bled  into  the  house  at  once."  She  begged  that  the 
colonel  would  stay  the  night  over  in  the  city,  and 
give  her  at  least  a  few  hours  to  prepare  for  him. 
The  colonel  would  not  hear  of  it,  however,  but  at 
once  procured  vehicles  to  take  the  whole  party  and 


A  NEIGHBOUR.  217 

their  boxes  out  to  the  place  that  was  to  be  their 
new  home.  It  was  then  already  evening;  the  short 
November  day  had  closed  in. 

"  He's  that  simple,"  Mrs.  Barker  confided  to  her 
brother,  "  he  expects  to  find  a  fire  made  and  a  room 
ready  for  him !  It's  like  all  the  gentlemen.  They 
never  takes  no  account  of  how  things  is  done,  if  it 
aint  their  things." 

"Thinks  the  furniture  '11  hop  out  o'  the  boxes, 
like,  and  stan'  round,"  echoed  Christopher.  "  I'm 
afeard  they  won't  be  so  obrigin'." 

The  drive  was  somewhat  slower  in  the  dark  than 
it  would  have  been  otherwise,  and  the  stars  were 
out  and  looking  down  brilliantly  upon  the  little 
party  as  they  finally  dismounted  at  their  door.  The 
shadow  of  the  house  rising  before  them,  a  cool  air 
from  the  river,  the  sparkling  stars  above,  the  vague 
darkness  around;  Esther  never  forgot  that  home 
coming. 

They  had  stopped  at  a  neighbour's  house  to  get 
the  key;  and  now,  the  front  door  being  unlocked, 
made  their  way  in,  one  after  another.  Esther  was 
confronted  first  by  a  great  packing  case  in  the 
narrow  hall,  which  blocked  up  the  way.  Going 
carefully  round  this,  which  there  was  just  room 
to  do,  she  stumbled  over  a  smaller  box  on  the  floor. 

u  0  papa,  take  care ! "  she  cried  to  her  father 
who  was  following  her, — "  the  house  is  all  full  of 
tilings,  and  it  is  so  dark.  0  Barker,  can't  you 
open  the  back  door  and  let  in  a  gleam  of  light  ?  " 

This  was  done,  and  also  in  due  time  a  lantern 


218  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

was  brought  upon  the  scene.  It  revealed  a  state 
of  things  almost  as  hopeless  as  the  world  appeared 
to  Noah's  dove  the  first  time  she  was  sent  out  of 
the  ark.  If  there  was  rest  for  the  soles  of  their 
feet,  it  was  all  that  could  be  said.  There  was  no 
promise  of  a  place  to  sit  down;  and  as  for  lying 
down  and  getting  their  natural  rest,  the  idea  was 
Utopian. 

"Now  look  here,"  said  a  voice  suddenly  out  of 
the  darkness  outside, — "  you're  all  fagged  out,  aint 
ye?  and  there  aint  nothin'  on  arth  ye  kin  du  to 
night;  there's  no  use  o'  your  tryin'.  Jes'  come  over 
to  my  house  and  hev  some  supper.  Ye  must  want 
it  bad.  Ben  travellin'  all  day,  aint  ye  ?  Jes'  come 
over  to  me ;  I've  got  some  hot  supper  for  ye.  Lands 
sakes !  ye  kint  do  nothin'  here  to-night.  It  is  a 
kind  of  a  turn-up,  aint  it?  La,  a  movin's  wuss'n  a 
weddin',  for  puttin'  everybody  out." 

The  voice,  sounding  at  first  from  the  outside,  had 
been  gradually  drawing  nearer  and  nearer,  till 
with  the  last  words  the  speaker  also  entered  the 
back  room,  where  Esther  and  her  father  were  stand 
ing.  They  were  standing  in  the  midst  of  packing 
cases,  of  every  size  and  shape,  between  which  the 
shadows  lay  dark,  while  the  faint  lantern  light 
just  served  to  shew  the  rough  edges  and  angles 
of  the  boxes  and  the  hopeless  condition  of  things 
generally.  It  served  also  now  to  let  the  new 
comer  be  dimly  seen.  Esther  and  her  father, 
looking  towards  the  door,  perceived  a  stout  little 
figure,  with  her  two  hands  rolled  up  in  her  shawl, 


A  NEIGHBOUR.  219 

head  bare,  and  with  hair  in  neat  order,  for  it 
glanced  in  the  lantern  shine  as  only  smooth  things 
can.  The  features  of  the  face  were  not  discernible. 

"It's  the  cunnel  himself,  aint  it?"  she  said. 
"  They  said  he  was  a  tall  man,  and  I  see  this  is 
a  tall  'un.  Is  it  the  cunnel  himself?  I  couldn't 
somehow  make  out  the  name.  I  never  kin;  and 
I  kint  see  nothin',  as  the  light  is." 

"  At  your  service,  madam,"  said  the  person  ad 
dressed.  "  Colonel  Gainsborough." 

The  visiter  dropped  a  little  dot  of  a  courtesy, 
which  seemed  to  Esther  inexpressibly  funny,  and 
went  on. 

"  Beg  pardon  for  not  knowin'.  Wall,  cunnel, 
I'm  sure  you're  tired  and  hungry — you  and  your 
darter,  is  it? — and  I've  got  a  hot  supper  for  you 
over  to  my  house.  I  allays  think  there's  nothin' 
like  hevin'  things  hot;  cold  comfort  aint  no  com 
fort,  for  me;  and  I've  got  every  thin'  hot  for  you; 
hot  and  nice;  and  now,  will  you  come  over  arid 
eat  it?  You  see,  you  kint  do  nothin'  here  to 
night.  I  don't  see  how  ever  you're  to  sleep,  in 
this  world;  there  aint  nothin'  here  but  the  floor 
and  the  boxes;  and  if  you'll  take  beds  with  me, 
I'm  sure  you're  welcome." 

"I  thank  you,  madam;  you  are  very  kind;  but 
I  do  not  think  we  need  trouble  you,"  the  colonel 
said  with  civil  formality.  Esther  was  amused,  but 
also  a  little  eager  that  her  father  should  accept 
the  invitation.  What  else  would  become  of  him? 
she  thought.  The  prospect  was  desolation.  Truly 


220  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

they  had  some  cooked  provisions;  but  that  was 
only  cold  comfort,  as  their  visiter  had  said:  doubt 
ful  if  the  term  could  be  applied  at  all. 

"  Now  you'd  jes'  best  come  right  over ! "  the  flu 
ent  but  kind  voice  said  persuasively.  "  It's  all 
spilin'  to  be  eat.  An'  what  kin  you  do?  There 
aint  no  fire  here  to  warm  you,  and  it'll  take  a  bit 
of  a  while  before  you  kin  get  one;  an'  you're  all 
tired  out.  Jes'  come  over  and  hev  a  cup  o'  hot 
coffee  and  get  heartened  up  a  bit,  and  then  you'll 
know  what  to  do  next.  I  allays  think,  one  thing 
at  a  time." 

"  Papa,"  said  Esther  a  little  timidly,  "hadn't  you 
better  do  it?  There's  nothing  but  confusion  here; 
it  will  be  a  long  time  before  we  can  get  you  even 
a  cup  of  tea." 

"  It's  all  ready,"  their  visiter  went  on, — "  ready 
and  spilin';  an'  I  got  it  for  you  o'  purpose.  Now 
don't  stan'  thinkin'  about  it,  but  jes'  come  right 
over;  I'll  be  as  glad  to  hev  you  as  if  you  was  new 
apples." 

"  How  far  is  it,  ma'am  ?"  Esther  asked. 

"Jes'  two  steps — down  the  other  side  o'  the  field; 
it's  the  very  next  house  to  your'n.  0  I've  lived 
there  a  matter  o'  ten  year;  and  I  was  main  glad  to 
hear  there  was  somebody  comin'  in  here  agin;  it's 
so  sort  o'  lonesome  to  see  the  winders  allays  shut 
up;  and  your  light  looks  real  cheery,  if  it  is  only 
a  lantern  light.  I  knowed  when  you  was  a  comin', 
and  says  I,  they'll  be  real  tired  out  when  they  gits 
there,  says  I ;  and  I'll  hev  a  hot  supper  ready  for 


A  NEIGHBOUR.  221 

'em ;  it's  all  I  kin  du ;  but  I'm  sure,  if  you'll  sleep, 
you're  welcome." 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  put  in  Mrs.  Barker,  "  it  would 
be  the  most  advisedest  thing  you  could  do;  for 
there  aint  no  prospect  here,  and  if  you  and  Miss 
Esther  was  away  for  a  bit,  mebbe  me  and  Christo 
pher  would  come  to  see  daylight  after  a  while; 
which  it  is  what  I  don't  do  at  present." 

The  good  woman's  voice  sounded  so  thoroughly 
perturbed  and  expressed  such  an  undoubted  ear 
nest  desire,  that  the  colonel,  contrary  to  all  his 
traditions,  gave  in.  Ke  and  Esther  followed  their 
new  friend,  "'cross  the  field"  as  she  said,  but  they 
hardly  knew  where,  till  the  light  and  warmth  of 
her  hospitable  house  received  them. 

How  strange  it  was!  The  short  walk  in  the 
starlight;  then  the  homely  hospitable  room  with 
its  spread  table,  the  pumpkin  pie,  and  the  sausage, 
and  the  pickles,  and  the  cheese,  and  the  cake !  The 
very  coarse  tablecloth;  the  little  two-pronged  forks, 
and  knives  which  might  have  been  cut  out  of  sheet 
iron,  and  singular  ware  which  did  service  for  china. 
The  extreme  homeliness  of  it  all  would  almost 
have  hindered  Esther  from  eating,  though  she  was 
very  hungry.  But  there  was  good  bread  and  but 
ter;  and  coffee  that  was  hot,  and  not  bad  otherwise, 
although  assuredly  it  never  saw  the  land  of  Arabia; 
certainly  it  seemed  very  good  to  Esther  that  night, 
even  taken  from  a  pewter  spoon.  And  the  table 
cloth  was  clean,  and  everything  upon  it.  So, 
with  doubtful  hesitation  at  first,  Esther  found  the 


222  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

supper  good,  and  learned  her  first  lesson  in  the 
broadness  of  humanity  and  the  wide  variety  in  the 
ways  of  human  life. 

Their  hostess,  seen  by  the  light  of  her  dip  can 
dles,  was  in  perfect  harmony  with  her  entertainment. 
A  round  little  woman,  very  neat,  and  terribly  plain ; 
with  a  full  oval  face,  which  had  no  other  char 
acteristic  of  beauty;  insignificant  features,  and  a 
pale  skin  covered  with  freckles.  Out  of  this  face, 
however,  looked  a  pair  of  small,  shrewd  and  kind 
grey  eyes;  their  owner  could  be  no  fool. 

Esther  was  surprised  to  see  that  her  father,  who 
was  to  be  sure  an  old  campaigner,  made  a  very 
fair  supper. 

"  In  the  darkness  I  could  hardly  see  where  we 
went,"  he  remarked.  "But  I  suppose  your  hus 
band  is  the  owner  of  the  neat  gardens  I  observed 
formerly  near  our  house  ?  " 

"Wall,  he  would  be  if  he  was  alive,"  was  the 
answer, — "  but  that's  what  he  haint  ben  this  five 
year." 

"  Then  do  you  manage  them  ?  " 

"Wall,  cunnel,  I  manage  'em  better'n  he  did. 
Mr.  Blumenfeld  was  an  easy  kind  o'  man;  easy  to 
live  with,  tu;  but  when  you  hev  other  folks  to  see 
to,  it  don't  du  no  ways  to  let  'em  hev  their  own 
heml  too  much.  An'  that's  what  he  did.  He  was 
a  fust  rate  gardener  and  no  mistake;  he  knowed 
his  business;  but  the  thing  he  didrit  know  was 
folks.  So  they  cheated  him.  La,  folks  ain't  like 
flowers,  not  'zactly;  or  if  they  be,  as  he  used  to 


A  NEIGHBOUR.  223 

gay,  there's  thorns  among  'era  now  and  then;  and  a 
weed  or  two  !  " 

"  Blumenfeld  ?  "  repeated  the  colonel.  "  You  are 
not  German,  surely  ?  " 

"  Wall,  I  guess  I  ain't,"  said  the  little  woman, 
"Not  if  I  know  myself.  I  aint  sayin'  nothin'  agin 
what  he  was;  but  la,  there's  different  naturs  in  the 
world,  and  I'm  different.  Folks  doos  say,  his  folks 
is  great  for  gittin'  along;  but  he  warnt;  that's  all  I 
hev  to  say.  He  learned  me  the  garden  work, 
though ;  that  much  he  did." 

"  And  now  you  manage  the  business  ?  " 
"  I  do  so.     Won't  you  hev  another  cup,  cunnel  ?  " 
They  went  back  to  their  disordered  house,  resist 
ing  all  further  offers  of  hospitality.     And  in  time, 
beds  were  got  out  and  prepared ;  how,  Esther  could 
hardly  remember  afterwards,  the  confusion  was  so 
great;  but  it  was  done,  and  she  lost  every  other 
feeling  in  the  joy  of  repose. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

HAPPY  PEOPLE. 

AT  Esther's  age  nature  does  her  work  of  recupei- 
ation  well  and  fast.  It  was  early  yet  and 
the  dawn  just  breaking  into  day,  when  she  woke; 
and  calling  to  mind  her  purposes  formed  last 
night,  she  immediately  got  up.  The  business  of 
the  toilet  performed  as  speedily  as  possible,  she 
stole  down  stairs  and  roused  Mrs.  Barker;  and 
while  waiting  for  her  to  be  ready,  went  to  the 
back  door  and  opened  it.  A  fresh  cool  air  blew 
in  her  face;  clouds  were  chasing  over  the  sky  be 
fore  a  brisk  wind,  and  below  her  rolled  the  broad 
Hudson,  its  surface  all  in  commotion;  while  'the 
early  light  lay  bright  on  the  pretty  Jersey  shore. 
Esther  stood  in  a  spell  of  pleasure.  This  was  a 
change  indeed  from  her  Seaforth  view,  where  the 
eye  could  go  little  further  than  the*  garden  and 
the  road.  Here  was  a  new  scene  opening  and  a 
new  chapter  in  life  beginning;  Esther's  heart 
swelled.  There  was  a  glad  mental  impulse  to 
wards  growth  and  developernent,  which  readily 
connected  itself  with  this  outward  change,  and 
with  this  outward  stir  also.  The  movement  of 
(224) 


HAPPY  PEOPLE.  225 

wind  and  water  met  a  movement  of  the  animal 
spirits  which  consorted  well  with  it;  the  cool  air 
breathed  vigour  into  her  resolves;  she   turned  to 
Mrs.  Barker  with  a  very  bright  face. 
"  0  Barker,  how  lovely  it  is  !  " — 
"  If  you  please,  which  is  it,  Miss  Esther  ?  " 
"  Look  at  that  beautiful  river.     And  the  light. 
And  the  air,  Barker.     It  is  delicious !  " 

"I  can't  see  it,  mum.  All  I  can  see  is  that  there 
aint  an  indiwiddle  cheer  standin'  on  its  own  legs 
in  all  the  house;  and  whatever'll  the  colonel  do 
when  he  comes  down?  and  what  to  begin  at  first, 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

"  We'll  arrange  all  that.  Where  is  Christopher  ? 
We  want  him  to  open  the  boxes.  We'll  get  one 
room  in  some  sort  of  order  first,  and  then  papa  can 
stay  in  it.  Where  is  Christopher?" 

They  had  to  wait  a  few  minutes  for  Christopher, 
and  meanwhile  Esther  took  a  rapid  review  of  the 
rooms;  decided  which  should  be  the  dining  room 
and  which  the  one  where  her  father  should  have 
his  sofa  and  all  his  belongings.  Then  she  surveyed 
the  packing  cases,  to  be  certain  which  was  which, 
and  what  ought  to  be  opened  first ;  examining  her 
ground  with  the  eye  of  a  young  general.  Then, 
when  the  lagging  Mr.  Bounder  made  his  appear 
ance,  there  was  a  systematic  course  of  action  en 
tered  upon,  in  which  packing  cases  were  knocked 
apart  and  cleared  away;  chairs  and  a  table  or  two 
were  released  from  durance  and  set  on  their  legs; 
a  rug  was  found  and  spread  down  before  the  fire- 


226  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

place;  the  colonel's  sofa  was  got  at  and  unboxed 
and  brought  into  position ;  and  finally  a  fire  was 
made.  Esther  stood  still  to  take  a  moment's  com 
placent  review  of  her  morning's  work. 

"  It  looks  quite  comfortable,"  she  said,  "  now 
the  fire  is  burning  up.  We  have  done  pretty  well, 
Barker,  for  a  beginning  ?  " 

"Never  see  a  better  two  hours'  job,"  said  Chris 
topher.  "Taint  much  more.  That's  Miss  Esther. 
Sarah  there,  she  wouldn't  ha'  knowed  which  was 
her  head  and  which  was  her  heels,  and  other  things 
according,  if  she  hadn't  another  head  to  help  her. 
What  o'  clock  is  it  now,  Miss  Esther?  " 

"It  is  some  time  after  eight.  Papa  may  be 
down  any  minute.  Now,  Barker,  the  next  thing 
is  breakfast." 

"  Breakfast,  Miss  Esther  !  "  said  the  housekeeper, 
standing  still  to  look  at  her. 

"Yes.  Aren't  you  hungry?  I  think  we  must 
all  want  it." 

"  And  how  are  we  goin'  to  get  it?  The  kitchen's 
all  cluttered  full  o'  boxes  and  baggage  and  that; 
and  I  don'  know  where  an  indiwiddle  thing  is, 
this  minute." 

"I  saw  the  tea-kettle  down  stairs." 

"Yes'm,  but  that's  the  sole  solitary  article.  I 
don'  know  where  there's  a  pan,  nor  a  gridiron; 
and  there's  no  fire,  Miss  Esther;  and  it'll  take  pa 
tience  to  get  that  grate  a  goin'." 

The  housekeeper,  usually  so  efficient,  now  looked 
helpless.  It  was  true,  the  system  by  means  of 


HAPPY  PEOPLE.  227 

which  so  much  had  been  done  that  morning,  had 
proceeded  from  Esther's  head  solely.  She  was  not 
daunted  now. 

"I  know  the  barrel  in  which  the  cooking  things 
were  packed  stands  there;  in  the  hall,  I  think. 
Christopher,  will  you  unpack  it? — but  first  fill  the 
kettle  and  bring  it  here." 

**  Here,  Miss  Esther  ?  "  cried  the  housekeeper. 

"Yes;  it  will  soon  boil  here.  And  Barker,  the 
hampers  with  the  china  are  in  the  other  room;  if 
you  will  unpack  them,  I  think  you  can  find  the  tea 
pot  and  some  cups." 

"They'll  all  want  washin',  Miss  Esther." 

"  Very  well ;  we  shall  have  warm  water  here  by 
that  time.  And  then  I  can  give  papa  his  tea  and 
toast,  and  boil  some  eggs,  and  that  will  do  very 
well;  everything  else  we  want  is  in  the  basket,, 
and  plenty,  as  we  did  not  eat  it  last  night." 

It  was  all  done,  it  took  time  to  be  sure,  but  it 
was  done;  and  when  Col.  Gainsborough  came  down, 
hesitating  and  somewhat  forlorn,  he  found  a  fire 
burning  in  the  grate,  Mrs.  Barker  watching  over 
a  skillet  in  one  corner  and  Esther  over  a  tea  kettle 
in  the  other.  The  room  was  filled  with  the  morn 
ing  light,  which  certainly  shewed  the  bare  floor 
and  the  packing  boxes  standing  around;  but  also 
shone  upon  an  unpacked  table, -cups,  plates,  bread 
and  butter.  Esther  had  thought  it  was  very  com 
fortable.  Her  father  seemed  not  to  take  that  view. 

"  What  are  you  doing  there?"  he  said.  "  Is  this 
to  be  the  kitchen  ?  " 


228  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Only  for  this  morning,  papa,"  said  Esther  cheer 
fully.  "  This  is  just  the  kettle  for  your  tea,  and 
Barker  is  boiling  an  egg  for  you;  at  least  she  will 
as  soon  as  the  water  boils." 

"All  this  should  have  been  done  elsewhere, 
my  dear." 

"  It  was  not  possible,  papa.  The  kitchen  is  ab 
solutely  full  of  boxes — it  will  take  a  while  to  clear 
it;  and  I  wanted  first  to  get  a  corner  for  you  to  be 
comfortable  in.  We  will  get  things  in  order  as 
fast  as  we  can.  Now  the  kettle  boils,  Barker, — 
don't  it?  You  may  put  in  the  eggs." 

"  My  dear,  I  do  not  think  this  is  the  place  for 
the  sofa." 

"0  no,  papa,  I  do  not  mean  it;  the  room  look 
ing  towards  the  water  is  the  prettiest  and  will 
,be  the  pleasantest;  that  will  be  the  sitting  room, 
I  think;  but  we  could  only  do  one  thing  at  a  time. 
Now  you  shall  have  your  tea  and  toast  in  two 
minutes." 

"There  is  no  doing  anything  well  without  sys 
tem,"  said  the  colonel.  "Arrange  your  work  al 
ways,  and  then  take  it  in  order,  the  first  thing 
first,  and  so  on.  Now  I  should  have  said,  the  first 
thing  here  was  the  kitchen  fire." 

Esther  knew  it  was  not,  and  that  her  doings  had 
been  with  admirable  system ;  she  was  a  little  dis 
appointed  that  they  met  with  no  recognition.  She 
had  counted  upon  her  father's  being  pleased  and 
even  a  little  surprised  that  so  much  had  been  done. 
Silently  she  made  his  tea,  and  toasted  him  with 


HAPPY  PEOPLE.  229 

much  difficulty  a  slice  of  bread.  Mrs.  Barker  dis 
appeared  with  her  skillet.  But  the  colonel  was  in 
the  state  of  mind  that  comes  over  many  ease-loving 
men  when  their  ease  is  temporarily  disturbed. 

"  How  long  is  it  going  to  take  two  people  to 
get  these  things  unboxed  and  in  their  places  ?  "  he 
inquired,  as  his  eye  roved  disconsolately  over  the 
room  and  its  packing  cases.  "  This  is  pretty  un 
comfortable  ! " 

"  Three  people,  papa.  I  shall  do  the  very  best 
I  can.  You  would  like  the  sitting-room  put  in 
order  first,  where  your  sofa  and  you  can  be  quiet  ?  " 

"You  are  going  to  school." 

"  0  papa,  but  I  must  see  to  the  house  first.  Bar 
ker  cannot  get  along  without  me." 

"  It  is  her  business,"  said  the  colonel.  "You  are 
going  to  school." 

"  But  papa,  please,  let  me  wait  a  few  days.  After 
I  once  begin  to  go  to  school  I  shall  be  so  busy 
with  study." 

"Time  you  were.  That's  what  we  are  come  here 
for.  The  season  is  late  now." 

"But  your  comfort,  and  the  house,  papa?" 

"  My  comfort  must  take  its  chance.  I  wish 
you  to  go  to  Miss  Fairbairn  on  Monday.  Then 
Barker  and  Christopher  can  take  the  house  be 
tween  them." 

There  was  no  gainsaying  her  father  when  once 
an  order  was  given,  Esther  knew;  and  she  was 
terribly  disappointed.  Her  heart  was  quite  set  on 
this  business  of  righting  and  arranging  the  new 


230  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

home;  nobody  could  do  it  as  it  should  be  done, 
she  knew,  except  by  her  order;  and  her  own  hand 
longed  to  be  in  the  work.  A  sudden  cloud  came 
over  the  brightness  of  her  spirit.  She  had  been 
very  bright  through  all  the  strain  and  rush  of 
the  morning;  now  she  suddenly  felt  tired  and 
dispirited. 

"What  is  Christopher  doing?" 

"Papa, — I  do  not  know;  he  has  been  opening 
boxes." 

"  Let  him  put  the  kitchen  in  order." 

"  Yes,  papa."  Esther  knew  it  was  impossible, 
however. 

"And  let  Barker  get  the  rooms  upstairs  ar 
ranged." 

"  Papa,  don't  you  want  your  sitting  room  pre 
pared  first  ? — -just  so  that  you  may  have  a  corner 
of  comfort  ?  " 

"I  do  not  expect  to  see  comfort,  my  dear,  for 
many  a  day — to  judge  by  what  I  have  around  me." 

Esther  swallowed  a  choking  feeling  in  her  throat, 
commanded  back  some  tears  which  had  a  mind  to 
force  their  way,  and  presided  over  the  rest  of  the 
meal  with  a  manner  of  sweet  womanly  dignity, 
which  had  a  lovely  unconscious  charm.  The 
colonel  did  even  become  a  little  conscious  of  it. 

"  You  are  doing  the  best  you  know,  my  dear," 
he  condescended  kindly.  "  I  do  not  grudge  any 
loss  of  comfort  for  your  sake." 

"  Papa,  I  think  you  shall  not  lose  any,"  Esther 
said  eagerly ;  but  then  she  confined  her  energies  to 


HAPPY  PEOPLE.  231 

doing.  And  with  nerves  all  strung  up  again,  she 
went  after  breakfast  at  the  work  of  bringing  order 
out  of  disorder. 

"  The  first  thing  for  you  to  do,  Barker,"  she  said, 
"  is  to  get  papa's  sleeping  room  comfortable.  He 
will  have  the  one  looking  to  the  west,  I  think;  that 
is  the  prettiest.  The  blue  carpet,  that  was  on  his 
room  at  Seaforth,  will  just  do.  Christopher  will 
undo  the  roll  of  carpet  for  you." 

"  Miss  Esther,  I  can't  do  nothing  till  I  get  the 
kitchen  free.  There'll  be  the  dinner." 

"Christopher  will  manage  the  kitchen." 

44  He  can't,  mum.  He  don't  know  one  thing  that's 
to  be  done,  no  more'n  one  of  his  spades.  It's  just 
not  possible,  Miss  Esther." 

"  I  will  oversee  what  he  does.  Trust  me.  I  will 
not  make  any  bad  mistakes,  Barker.  You  put  papa's 
room  in  order.  He  wishes  it." 

What  the  colonel  desired  had  to  be  done,  Barker 
knew;  so  with  a  wondering  look  at  Esther's  sweet, 
determined  face,  she  gave  in.  And  that  day  and 
the  next  day,  and  the  third,  were  days  very  full 
of  business,  and  in  which  a  vast  deal  was  accom 
plished.  The  house  was  really  very  pretty,  as  Es 
ther  soon  saw;  and  before  Saturday  night  closed 
in,  those  parts  of  it  at  least  which  the  colonel  had 
most  to  do  with  were  stroked  into  order,  and 
afforded  him  all  his  wonted  ease  and  luxury.  Es 
ther  had  worked  every  hour  of  those  days,  to  the 
admiration  of  her  subordinates;  the  informing  spirit 
and  regulating  will  of  every  step  that  was  taken. 


232  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

She  never  lost  her  head,  or  her  patience,  or  her 
sweet  quiet;  though  she  was  herself  as  busy  as  a 
bee  and  at  the  same  time  constantly  directing  the 
activity  of  the  others.  Wise,  and  quick-witted,  and 
quick  to  remember,  her  presence  of  mind  and 
readiness  of  resource  seemed  unfailing.  So,  as  I 
said,  before  Saturday  night  came,  an  immense  deal 
of  work  was  accomplished,  and  done  in  a  style  that 
needed  not  to  be  done  over  again.  All  which  how 
ever  was  not  finished  without  some  trace  of  the 
strain  to  which  the  human  instrument  had  been  put. 

The  sun  had  just  set,  and  Esther  was  standing  at 
the  window  of  her  father's  room,  looking  out  to  the 
west.  She  had  been  unpacking  his  clothes  and 
laying  them  in  the  drawers  of  his  bureau  and  press. 

"  Miss  Esther,  you're  tired,  bad !  "  said  the  house 
keeper  wistfully,  coming  up  beside  her.  "  There's 
all  black  rings  under  your  eyes;  and  your  cheeks 
is  pale.  You  have  worked  too  hard,  indeed." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Esther  cheerfully;  "  that  will 
pass.  How  pretty  it  is,  Barker  !  Look  out  at  that 
sky." 

"  Yes'm,  it's  just  the  colour  from  that  sky  that 
keeps  your  cheeks  from  shewin'  how  white  they  be. 
Miss  Esther,  you've  just  done  too  much." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  the  girl  again.  "  I  wanted 
to  have  papa  comfortable  before  I  went  to  school. 
I  am  going  to  school  Monday  morning,  Barker. 
Now  I  think  he'll  do  very  nicely."  She  looked 
round  the  room,  which  was  a  pattern  of  neatness 
and  of  comfort  that  was  both  simple  and  elegant. 


HAPPY  PEOPLE.  233 

But  the  housekeeper's  face  was  grave  with  disap 
proval  and  puckered  with  lines  of  care.  The  wist 
ful  expression  of  anxiety  upon  it  touched  Esther. 

"Barker,"  she  said  kindly,  "you  do  not  look 
happy." 

"  Me  !  No,  Miss  Esther,  it  is  which  I  do  not  ex 
pect  to  look." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Mum,  things  is  not  accordin'  in  this  world." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken.  Do  you  know  who 
the  happy  people  are  ?  "  . 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Esther,  I  think  they're  the  blessed 
ones  that  has  gone  clean  away  from  the  earth." 

"  0  no.  I  mean,  people  that  are  happy  now  and 
happy  here,  Barker." 

"I  am  sure  and  I  don't  know,  Miss  Esther;  if  it 
wouldn't  be  little  children;  which  is,  them  that  is 
too  young  to  know  what  the  world  is  like.  I  do 
suppose  they  are  happy." 

"Don't  you  know,  the  Bible  says  some  other 
people  are  happy  ?  " 

"The  Bible!—" 

Mrs.  Barker  stared,  open  mouthed,  at  the  face 
before  her.  Esther  had  sat  down  by  the  window, 
where  the  glow  from  the  west  was  upon  it,  like  a 
glory  round  the  head  of  a  young  saint;  and  the 
evening  sky  was  not  more  serene,  nor  reflected 
more  surely  a  hidden  light  than  did  the  beautiful 
eyes.  Mrs.  Barker  gazed,  and  could  not  bring  out 
another  word. 

"You  read  your  Bible,  don't  you?" 


234  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Yes'm,  in  course;  which  it  isn't  very  often;  but 
in  course  I  reads  it." 

"Don't  you  know  what  it  says  about  happy 
people  ?  " 

"  In  Paradise — "  gasped  the  housekeeper. 

"No,  not  in  Paradise.     Listen;  let  me  tell  you. 

"!' Blessed  is  the  man  whose  iniquities  are  forgiven, 
whose  sins  are  covered.'  " 

Mrs.  Barker  met  the  look  in  Esther's  eyes,  and 
was  absolutely  dumb. 

"  Don't  you  know  that  ?  " 

"I've  heerd  it,  mum." 

"  Well,  you  understand  it  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,  Miss  Esther,  I  think  a  body  could 
be  that  knowed  it;  that  same,  I  mean." 

"  How  can  anybody  be  happy  that  does  not  know 
it?" 

"True  enough,  mum ;  but  how  is  anybody  to  know 
it  for  sure,  Miss  Esther  ?  " 

"/know  it,  Barker." 

"  You,  Miss  Esther  !  •  Yes  mum,  that's  easy,  when 
you  never  did  nothin'  wrong  in  your  life.  'Taint 
the  way  with  the  likes  o'  us." 

"  It  is  not  the  way  with  anybody.  Nothing  but 
the  blood  of  Christ  can  make  any  one  clean.  But 
that  will.  And  don't  you  see,  Barker,  that  is  being 
happy?" 

There  was  indeed  no  dissent  in  the  good  woman's 
eyes,  but  she  said  nothing.  Esther  presently  went 
on. 

"Now  I  will  tell  you  another  word.     Listen. — 


HAPPY   PEOPLE.  235 

'Blessed  is  the  man  whose  strength  the  Lord  is.' — 
Don't  you  think  so,  Barker  ?  Don't  you  see  ?  He 
can  never  be  weak." 

"  Miss  Esther,  you  do  speak  beautiful !  "  came  out 
at  last  the  housekeeper. 

"  Don't  you  think  that  is  being  happy?  " 

"  It  do  sound  so,  mum." 

"  I  can  tell  you,  it  feels  so,  Barker.  *  Blessed  are 
all  they  that  put  their  trust  in  him.'  And  that  is, 
they  are  happy.  And  I  trust  in  him ;  and  I  love 
him;  and  I  know  my  sins  are  forgiven  and  covered; 
and  my  strength  is  in  him.  All  my  strength.  But 
that  makes  me  strong." 

She  went  away  with  that  from  the  window  and 
the  room,  leaving  the  housekeeper  exceedingly  con 
founded;  much  as  if  a  passing  angel's  wings  had 
thrown  down  a  white  light  upon  her  brown  path 
way.  And  from  this  time,  it  may  be  said  Mrs. 
Barker  regarded  her  young  lady  with  something 
like  secret  worship.  She  had  always  been  careful 
and  tender  of  her  charge;  now  in  spirit  she  bowed 
down  before  her  to  the  ground.  For  a  while  after 
Esther  had  left  the  room  she  stood  very  still,  like 
one  upon  whom  a  spell  had  fallen.  She  was  com 
paring  things ;  remembering  the  look  Mrs.  Gains 
borough  had  used  to  wear;  sweet,  dignified,  but 
shadowed;  then  the  face  that  at  one  time  was  Es 
ther's  face,  also  sweet  and  dignified,  but  uneasy 
and  troubled  and  dark;  and  now — what  was  her 
countenance  like  ?  The  housekeeper  was  no  poet, 
nor  in  any  way  fanciful;  otherwise  she  might  have 


236  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

likened  it  to  some  of  the  fairest  things  in  nature ; 
and  still  the  comparison  would  have  fallen  short. 
Sweet  as  a  white  rose;  untroubled  as  the  stars;  full 
of  hope  as  the  flush  of  the  morning.  Only,  in  the 
human  creature  there  was  the  added  element  of 
life,  which  in  all  these  dead  things  was  wanting. 
Mrs.  Barker  probably  thought  of  none  of  these 
images  for  her  young  mistress;  nevertheless,  the 
truth  that  is  in  them  came  down  upon  her  very 
heart ;  and  from  that  time  she  was  Esther's  devoted 
slave.  There  was  no  open  demonstration  of  feeling; 
but  Esther's  wishes  were  laws  to  her,  and  Esther's 
welfare  lay  nearest  her  heart  of  all  things  in  the 
world. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
SCHOOL. 

A  FTER  much  consideration  the  colonel  had  de- 
I\  termined  that  Esther  should  be  a  sort  of  half 
boarder  at  Miss  Fairbairn's  school;  that  is,  she 
should  stay  there  from  Monday  morning  to  Satur 
day  night.  Esther  combated  this  determination  as 
far  as  she  dared. 

"  Papa,  will  not  that  make  me  a  great  deal  more 
expense  to  you  than  I  need  be  ?  " 

"  Not  much  difference,  my  dear,  as  to  that.  If 
you  came  back  every  night  I  should  have  to  keep 
a  horse;  now  that  will  not  be  necessary,  and  Chris 
topher  will  have  more  time  to  attend  to  other 
things." 

"  But  papa,  it  will  leave  you  all  the  week 
alone ! " 

"That  must  be,  my  child.  I  must  be  alone  all 
the  days,  at  any  rate." 

"  Papa,  you  will  miss  me  at  tea,  and  in  the 
evenings." 

"  I  must  bear  that." 

"  It  troubles  me,  papa." 

(237) 


238  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"And  that  you  must  bear.  My  dear,  I  do  not 
grudge  the  price  I  pay.  See  you  only  that  I  get 
what  I  pay  for." 

"  Yes,  papa,"  Esther  said  meekly.  She  could  go 
no  further. 

Miss  Fairbairn  was  a  tall  woman,  but  not  impos 
ing  either  in  manner  or  looks.  Her  face  was  sen 
sible,  with  a  mixture  of  the  sweet  and  the  practical 
which  was  at  least  peculiar;  and  the  same  mixture 
was  in  her  manner.  This  was  calm  and  gentle  in 
the  utmost  degree;  also  cool  and  self-possessed 
equally;  and  it  gave  Esther  the  impression  of  one 
who  always  knew  her  own  mind  and  was  accus 
tomed  to  make  it  the  rule  for  all  around  her.  A 
long  talk  with  this  lady  was  the  introduction  to 
Esther's  school  experience.  It  was  a  very  varied 
talk;  it  roved  over  a  great  many  fields  and  took 
looks  into  others ;  it  was  not  inquisitive  or  prying, 
and  yet  Esther  felt  as  if  her  interlocutor  were  prob 
ing  her  through  and  through  and  finding  out  all 
she  knew  and  all  she  did  not  know.  In  the  latter 
category,  it  seemed  to  Esther,  lay  almost  everything 
she  ought  to  have  known.  Perhaps  Miss  Fairbairn 
did  not  think  so ;  at  any  rate  her  face  expressed  no 
disappointment  and  no  disapproval. 

"In  what  way  have  you  carried  on  your  study 
of  history,  my  dear  ?  "  she  finally  asked. 

"  I  hardly  can  tell;  in  a  box  of  coins,  I  believe," 
Esther  answered. 

"Ah? — I  think  I  will  get  me  a  box  of  coins." 

Which  meant,  Esther  could  not  tell  what.     She 


SCHOOL.  239 

found  herself  at  last,  to  her  surprise,  put  with  the 
highest  classes  in  the  English  branches  and  in 
Latin. 

Her  work  was  immediately  delightful.  Esther  was 
so  buried  in  it  that  she  gave  little  thought  or  care 
to  anything  else,  and  did  not  know  or  ask  what 
place  she  took  in  the  esteem  of  her  companions  or 
of  her  teachers.  As  the  reader  may  be  more  curious, 
one  little  occurrence  that  happened  that  week  shall 
serve  to  illustrate  her  position ;  did  illustrate  it,  in 
the  consciousness  of  all  the  school  family,  only  not 
of  Esther  herself. 

It  was  at  dinner  one  day.  There  was  a  long  table 
set,  which  reached  nearly  from  the  front  of  the  house 
to  the  back,  through  two  rooms;  leaving  just  com 
fortable  space  for  the  servants  to  move  about  around 
it.  Dinner  was  half  through.  Miss  Fairbairn  was 
speaking  of  something  in  the  newspaper  of  that 
morning  which  had  interested  her  and  she  thought 
would  interest  the  girls. 

"  I  will  read  it  to  you,"  she  said.  "  Miss  Gains 
borough,  may  I  ask  you  to  do  me  a  favour  ?  Go  and 
fetch  me  the  paper,  my  dear; — it  lies  on  my  table 
in  the  schoolroom — the  paper,  and  the  book  that  is 
with  it," 

There  went  a  covert  smile  round  the  room,  which 
Esther  did  not  see;  indeed  it  was  too  covert  to  be 
plain  even  to  the  keen  eyes  of  Miss  Fairbairn;  and 
glances  were  exchanged;  and  perhaps  it  was  as 
well  for  Esther  that  she  did  not  know  how  every 
body's  attention  for  the  moment  was  concentrated 


240  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

on  her  movements.     She  went  and  came  in  happy 
ignorance. 

Miss  Fairbairn  received  her  paper,  thanked  her, 
and  went  on  then  to  read  to  the  girls  an  elaborate 
account  of  a  wonderful  wedding  which  had  lately 
been  celebrated  in  Washington.  The  bride's  dress 
was  detailed,  her  trousseau  described,  and  the  sub 
sequent  movements  of  the  bridal  party  chronicled. 
All  was  listened  to  with  eager  attention. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Miss  Dyckman?  "  the 
lady  asked  after  she  had  finished  reading. 

"  I  think  she  was  a  happy  girl,  Miss  Fairbairn." 
"  Humph! — What  do  you  say,  Miss  Delavan?" 
u  Uncommonly  happy,  I  should  say,  ma'am." 
"  Is  that  your  opinion,  Miss  Essing  ?  " 
"  Certainly,    ma'am.     There   could   be   but   one 
opinion,  I  should  think." 

"  What  could  make  a  girl  happy,  if  all  that  would 
not  ?  "  asked  another. 

"  Humph ! — Miss  Gainsborough,  you  are  the 
next ;  what  are  your  views  on  the  subject  ?  " 

Esther's  mouth  opened,  and  closed.  The  answer 
that  came  first  to  her  lips  was  sent  back.  She 
had  a  fine  feeling  that  it  was  not  fit  for  the  com 
pany;  a  feeling  that  is  expressed  in  the  admonition 
not  to  cast  pearls  before  swine*  though  that  admoni 
tion  did  not  occur  to  her  at  the  time.  She  had  been 
about  to  appeal  to  the  Bible;  but  her  answer  as  it 
was  given  referred  only  to  herself. 

"  1  believe  I  should  not  call  '  happiness '  any 
thing  that  would  not  last,"  she  said. 


SCHOOL.  241 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  What  Miss 
Fair  bairn  thought  was  not  to  be  read  from  her 
face;  in  other  faces  Esther  read  distaste  or  dis 
approbation. 

"Why,  Miss  Fairbairn,  nothing  lasts, — if  you 
come  to  that,"  cried  a  young  lady  from  near  the 
other  end  of  the  table. 

"Some  things  more  than  others," — the  mistress 
of  the  house  opined. 

"  Not  what  you  call  '  happiness,'  ma'am." 

"That's  a  very  sober  view  of  things  to  take  at 
your  age,  Miss  Disbrow." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  young  lady  tittering. 
"It  is  true." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  true,  Miss  Jennings  ?  " 

There  was  a  little  hesitation.  Miss  Jennings 
said  she  did  not  know.  Miss  Lawton  was  ap 
pealed  to. 

"  Is  there  no  happiness  that  is  lasting,  Miss 
Lawton  ?  " 

"  Well,  Miss  Fairbairn, — what  we  call  happiness, 
— One  can't  be-  married  but  once,"  the  young  lady 
hazarded. 

That  called  forth  a  storm  of  laughter.  Laughter 
well  modulated  and  kept  within  bounds,  be  it  un 
derstood  ;  no  other  was  tolerated  in  Miss  Fairbairn's 
presence. 

"  I  have  heard  of  people — who  had  that  hap 
piness  two  or  three  times,"  the  lady  said  de 
murely.  "  Is  there  then  no  happiness  short  of 
being  married?" 


242  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"0  Miss  Fairbairn!  you  know  I  do  not  mean 
that;  but  all  the  things  you  read  to  us  of;  the 
diamonds,  and  th6  beautiful  dresses,  and  the  lace, 
and  the  presents;  and  then  the  travelling,  and 
doing  whatever  she  liked." 

"Very  few  people  do  whatever  they  like,"  mur- 
mered  Miss  Fairbairn. 

"  I  mean  all  that.  And  that  does  not  last — only 
for  a  while.  The  diamonds  last,  of  course — " 

"  But  the  pleasure  of  wearing  them  might  not. 
True.  Quite  right,  Miss  Lawton.  But  I  come 
back  to  my  question.  Is  there  no  happiness  on 
earth  that  lasts  ?  " 

There  was  silence. 

"  We  are  in  a  bad  way,  if  that  is  our  case.  Miss 
Gainsborough,  what  do  you  say?  I  come  back  to 
you  again.  Is  there  any  such  thing  on  earth  as 
happiness,  according  to  your  terms? — something 
that  ksts  ?  " 

Esther  was  in  doubt  again  how  to  answer. 

"  I  think  there  is,  ma'am,"  she  said  with  a  look 
up  at  her  questioner. 

"  Pray  what  is  it  ?  " 

Did  she  know?  or  did  she  not  know?  Esther 
was  not  certain;  was  not  certain  that  her  words 
would  find  either  understanding  or  sympathy  in 
all  that  tableful.  Nevertheless  the  time  had  come 
when  they  must  be  spoken.  Which  words  ?  for 
several  Bible  sayings  were  in  her  mind. — 

'"Blessed  is  every  one  that  feareth  the  Lord ;  that 
walketh  in  his  ways.  For  thou  shalt  eat  the  labour 


SCHOOL.  243 

of  thine  hands:  happy  shalt  them  be,  and  it  shall 
be  well  with  thee.' " 

The  most  profound  silence  followed  this  utter 
ance.  It  had  been  made  in  a  steady  arid  clear 
voice,  heard  well  throughout  the  rooms;  and  then 
there  was  silence.  Esther  fancied  she  discerned 
a  little  sympathetic  moisture  in  the  eyes  of  Miss 
Fairbairn ;  but  also  that  lady  at  first  said  nothing. 
At  last  one  voice  in  the  distance  was  understood 
to  declare  that  its.  owner  "did  not  care  about  eating 
the  labour  of  her  hands." 

"No,  my  dear;  you  would  surely  starve,"  replied 
Miss  Fairbairn.  "  Is  that  what  the  words  mean, 
do  you  think,  Miss  Gainsborough?" 

"  I  think  not,  ma'am." 

"  What  then  ?  won't  you  explain  ?  " 

" There  is  a  reference,  ma'am,  which  I.  thought 
explained  it.  '  Say  ye  to  the  righteous  that  it  shall 
be  well  with  him :  for  they  shall  eat  the  fruit  of 
their  doings.' — And  another  word  perhaps  explains 
it.  '0  fear  the  Lord,  ye  his  saints;  for  there  is  no 
want  to  them  that  fear  him.' " 

"  No  want  to  them,  hey  ?  "  repeated  Miss  Fair 
bairn.  "That  sounds  very  much  like  happiness,  I 
confess.  What  do  you  say,  Miss  Lawton  ? — Miss 
Disbrow?  People  that  have  no  want  unsatisfied 
must  be  happy,  I  should  say." 

Silence.  Then  one  young  lady  was  heard  to  sug 
gest  that  there  were  no  such  people  in  the  world. 

"  The  Bible  says  so,  Miss  Baines.  What  can  you 
do  against  that  ?  " 


244  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Miss  Fairbairn,  there  is  an  old  woman  that 
lives  near  us  in  the  country — very  poor — she  is  an 
old  Christian;  at  least  so  they  say;  and  she  is  very 
poor.  She  has  lost  all  her  children  and  grandchil 
dren;  she  cannot  work  any  more;  and  she  lives 
upon  charity.  That  is,  if  you  call  it  living.  I 
know  she  often  has  very  little  indeed  to  live  upon, 
and  that  very  poor;  and  she  is  quite  alone;  nobody 
to  take  the  least  care  for  her,  or  of  her." 

"  So  you  think  she  does  want  some  things.  Miss 
Gainsborough,  what  have  you  to  say  to  that?  " 

"What  does  she  think  about  it?  "  Esther  asked. 

She  looked  as  she  spoke  at  the  young  lady  who 
had  given  the  instance,  but  the  latter  took  no  no 
tice;  until  Miss  Fairbairn  said, 

"  Miss  Baines,  a  question  was  put  to  you." 

"  I  am  sure,  I  don't  know,"  Miss  Baines  replied. 
"  They  say  she  is  a  very  happy  old  woman." 

"You  doubt  it?" 

"  I  should  not  be  happy  in  her  place,  ma'am.  I 
don't  see,  for  my  part,  how  it  is  possible.  And  it 
seems  to  me  certainly  she  wants  a  great  many 
things." 

"  What  do  you  think,  Miss  Gainsborough." 

"  I  think  the  Bible  must  be  true,  ma'am." 

"That  is  Faith's  answer." 

"  And  then,  the  word  is,  '  Blessed  is  every  one 
that  feareth  the  Lord;— it  is  true  of  nobody  else,  I 
suppose." 

"  My  dear,  is  that  the  answer  of  Experience  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know,  ma'am."— But  Esther's  smile 


SCHOOL.  245 

gave  a  very  convincing  affirmative.  "  But  the 
promise  is,  '  No  good  thing  will  he  withhold  from 
them  that  walk  uprightly.' " 

"There  you  have  it.  'No  good  thing,' — and 
*  From  them  that  walk  uprightly.'  Miss  Disbrow, 
when  you  were  getting  well  of  that  fever,  did  your 
mother  let  you  eat  everything  ?  " 

"0  no,  ma'am — not  at  all." 

"  What  did  she  keep  from  you  ?  " 

"  Nearly  everything  I  liked,  ma'am." 

"Was  it  cruelty,  or  kindness?" 

"Kindness  of  course.  What  I  liked  would  have 
killed  me." 

"  Then  she  withheld  from  you  '  no  good  thing,' 
hey  ? — while  she  kept  from  you  nearly  everything 
you  liked." 

There  was  silence  all  round  the  table.  Then 
Miss  Baines  spoke  again. 

"  But  ma'am,  that  old  woman  has  not  a  fever — 
and  she  don't  get  any  nice  things  to  eat." 

"It  is  quite  likely  she  enjoys  her  meals  more 
than  you  do  yours.  But  granting  she  does  not; 
are  you  the  physician  to  know  what  is  good  for 
her?" 

"  She  does  not  want  any  physician,  ma'am." 

A  laugh  ran  round  the  table,"  and  Miss  Fairbairn 
let  the  subject  drop.  When  dinner  was  nearly 
over,  however,  she  remarked, 

"You  want  light  for  your  practising — I  will 
excuse  you,  Miss  Gainsborough,  if  you  wish  to  go." 

Esther  went,  very  willingly.     Then   Miss  Fair- 


246  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

bairn  held  one  of  her  little  discourses,  with  which 
now  arid  then  she  endeavoured  to  edify  her  pupils. 

"  Young  ladies,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  take 
pattern  by  Miss  Gainsborough.  Did  you  notice 
her  movements  when  she  went  to  do  that  little 
errand  for  me?" 

Silence.  Then  murmurs  of  assent  were  heard, 
not  very  loud,  nor  enthusiastic.  Miss  Fairbairn 
did  not  expect  that,  nor  care.  What  she  wanted 
was  to  give  her  lesson. 

"Did  you  observe  how  she  moved?  She  went 
like  a  swan — " 

"  On  land — "  her  keen  ears  heard  somebody  say 
under  breath. 

"No,  not  on  the  land;  like  a  swan  on  the  water; 
with  that  smooth,  gliding,  noiseless  movement  which 
is  the  very  way  a  true  lady  goes.  There  was  the 
cat  lying  directly  in  her  way ;  Miss  Gainsborough 
went  round  her  gracefully,  without  stopping  or 
stumbling.  The  servant  came  right  against  her 
with  a  tray  full;  Miss  Gainsborough  stood  still  and 
waited  composedly  till  the  obstacle  was  removed. 
You  could  not  hear  her  open  or  shut  the  door;  you 
could  not  hear  her  foot  on  the  stairs ;  and  yet  she 
went  quick.  And  when  she  came  back,  she  did 
not  rustle  and  bustle  with  her  newspaper,  but  laid 
it  nicely  folded  beside  me,  and  went  back  to  her 
seat  as  quietly  as  she  had  left  it.  Young  ladies, 
that  is  good  breeding  in  motion." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  COLONEL'S  TOAST. 

IT  is  just  possible  that  the  foregoing  experiences 
did  not  tend  to  increase  Esther's  popularity 
among  her  companions.  She  got  forthwith  the 
name  of  &  favourite]  the  giving  of  which  title  is 
the  consolatory  excuse  to  themselves  of  those  who 
have  done  nothing  to  deserve  favour.  However, 
whether  she  were  popular  or  not  was  a  matter  that 
did  not  concern  Esther.  She  was  full  of  the  de 
light  of  learning,  and  bent  upon  making  the  ut 
most  of  her  new  advantages.  Study  swallowed 
her  up,  so  to  speak;  at  least  swallowed  up  all 
lesser  considerations  and  attendant  circumstances. 
Not  so  far  but  that  Esther  got  pleasure  also  from 
these;  she  enjoyed  the  novelty,  she  enjoyed  the 
society,  even  she  enjoyed  the  sight  of  so  many  in 
the  large  family;  to  the  solitary  girl  who  had  all 
her  life  lived  and  worked  alone,  the  stir  and  breeze 
and  bustle  of  a  boarding  school  were  like  fresh  air 
to  the  lungs,  or  fresh  soil  to  the  plant.  If  her  new 
companions  liked  her,  she  did  not  so  much  as  ques 
tion:  in  the  sweetness  of  her  own  happy  spirit  she 

(247) 


248  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

liked  tliem,  which  was  the  more  material  consider 
ation.  She  liked  every  teacher  that  had  to  do  with 
her;  after  which  it  is  needless  to  add  that  Miss 
Gainsborough  had  none  but  favourers  and  friends 
in  that  part  of  her  new  world.  And  it  was  so  de 
licious  to  be  learning;  and  in  such  a  mood  one 
learns  fast.  Esther  felt  when  she  went  home  at 
the  end  of  the  week,  that  she  was  already  a  differ 
ent  person  from  the  one  who  had  left  it  Monday 
morning. 

Christopher  came  for  her  with  an  old  horse  and 
a  gig,  which  was  a  new  subject  of  interest; 

"  Where  did  you  get  them  ?  "  she  asked,  as  soon 
as  she  had  taken  her  seat  and  begun  to  make  her 
observations. 

"Nowheres,  Miss  Esther;  leastways  I  didn't. 
The  colonel,  he's  bought  'em  of  some  old  chap  that 
wanted  to  get  rid  of  'em." 

"  Bought !—  then  they  are  ours,"  exclaimed  Es 
ther  with  delight.  "  Well,  the  gig  seems  very 
nice;  is  it  a  good  horse,  Christopher?" 

"  Well,  m'm,"  said  Mr.  Bounder  in  a  tone  of  very 
moderate  appreciation,  "master  says  he's  the  re 
mains  of  one.  The  colonel  knows,  to  be  sure,  but 
I  can't  say  as  I  see  the  remains.  I  think  maybe, 
somewheres  in  the  last  century  he  may  have  de 
served  high  consideration ;  at  present  he's  got  four 
legs,  to  be  sure,  such  as  they  be,  and  a  head.  The 
head's  the  most  part  of  him." 

"  Obstinate  ?  "  said  Esther  laughing.       ' 

"  Well,  mum,  he  thinks  he  knows  in  all  circum- 


THE  COLONEL'S  TOAST.  249 

stances  what  is  best  to  be  done.  I'm  only  a  human, 
and  naturally  I  thinks  otherwise.  That  makes  dif 
ferences  of  opinion." 

"  He  seems  to  go  very  well." 

"No  doubt,  mum,"  said  Christopher;  "you  let 
him  choose  his  way,  and  he'll  go  uncommon ;  that 
he  do."— 

He  went  so  well,  in  fact,  that  the  drive  was  ex 
hilarating;  the  gig  was  very  easy;  and  Esther's 
spirits  rose.  At  her  age  the  mind  is  just  opening 
to  appreciate  keenly  whatever  is  presented  to  it; 
every  new  bit  of  knowledge,  every  new  experience, 
a  new  book  or  a  new  view,  seemed  to  be  taken  up 
by  her  senses  and  her  intelligence  alike  with  a 
fresh  clearness  of  perception  which  had  in  itself 
something  very  enjoyable.  But  this  afternoon, 
how  pleasant  everything  was !  Not  the  weather, 
however;  a  grey  mist  from  the  sea  was  sweeping 
inland,  veiling  the  country  and  darkening  the  sky, 
and  carrying  with  it  a  penetrating  raw  chillness 
which  was  anything  but  agreeable.  Yet  to  Esther 
it  was  good  weather.  She  was  entered  at  school ; 
she  had  had  a  busy,  happy  week,  and  was  going 
home;  there  were  things  at  home  that  she  wanted 
to  put  in  order;  and  her  father  must  be  glad  to  have 
her  ministry  again.  Then  learning  was  so  delight 
ful,  and  it  was  so  pleasant  to  be,  at  least  in  some 
small  measure,  keeping  step  with  Pitt.  No,  prob 
ably  not  that',  certainly  riot  that;  Pitt  would  be  far 
in  advance  of  her.  At  least  in  some  things  he  would 
be  far  in  advance  of  her;  in  others,  Esther  said  to 


250  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

herself,  he  should  not.  He  might  have  more  ad 
vantages  at  Oxford;  no  doubt;  nevertheless,  if  he 
ever  came  back  again  to  see  his  old  friends,  he 
should  find  her  doing  her  part  and  standing  up  to 
her  full  measure  of  possibilities.  Would  Pitt  come 
back?  Surely  he  would,  Esther  thought.  But 
would  he  in  such  a  case  make  all  the  journey  to 
New  York  to  look  up  his  old  teacher  and  his  old 
playmate  and  scholar  ?  She  answered  this  query 
with  as  little  hesitation  as  the  other.  And  so  it 
will  be  perceived,  Esther's  mind  was  in  as  brisk 
motion  as  her  body  during  the  drive  out  to  Chelsea. 

For  at  that  day,  a  wide  stretch  of  country,  more 
or  less  cultivated,  lay  between  what  is  now  Abing- 
don  Square  and  what  was  then  the  city.  Esther's 
new  home  was  a  little  further  on  still,  down  near 
the  bank  of  the  river;  a  drive  of  a  mile  and  a  half 
or  two  miles  from  Miss  Fairbairn's  school;  and  the 
short  November  day  was  closing  in  already  when 
she  got  there. 

Mrs.  Barker  received  her  almost  silently,  but 
with  gladness  in  every  feature  and  with  a  quantity 
of  careful,  tender  ministrations,  every  one  of  which 
had  the  effect  of  a  caress. 

"  How  is  papa?  has  he  missed  me  much?" 

"The  colonel  is  quite  as  usual,  murn;  and  he 
didn't  say  to  me  as  his  feelin's  were,  but  in  course 
he's  missed  you.  The  house  itself  has  missed  you, 
Miss  Esther." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  be  home  for  a  bit,  Barker," 
said  Esther  laughing. 


THE  COLONEL'S  TOAST.  251 

"Surely,  I  know  it  must  be  fine  for  you  to  go 
to  school,  mum;  but  a  holiday's  a  holiday;  and  I've 
got  a  nice  pheasant  for  your  supper,  Miss  Esther; 
and  I  hope  as  you'll  enjoy  it." 

"  Thank  you,  Barker.  0  anything  will  be  good ;" 
— and  she  ran  into  the  sitting  room  to  see  her 
father. 

The  greetings  here  were  quiet  too;  the  colonel 
was  never  otherwise,  in  manner.  And  then  Esther 
gave  a  quick  look  round  the  room  to  see  if  all  were 
as  she  wanted  it  to  be. 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  colonel  gazing  at  her,  "  I 
had  no  idea  you  were  so  tall !  " 

Esther  laughed.  'T  seem  to  have  grown,  0  inches, 
in  feeling,  this  week,  papa.  I  don't  wonder  I  look 
tall." 

"  Never  '  wonder,'  my  dear,  at  anything.  Are  you 
satisfied  with  your  new  position  ?  " 

"  Very  much,  papa.  Have  you  missed  me  ? — 
badly,  I  mean  ?  " 

"There  is  no  way  of  missing  a  person  pleasantly, 
that  I  know,"  said  her  father; — "unless  it  is  a  dis 
agreeable  person.  Yes,  I  have  missed  you,  Esther; 
but  I  am  willing  to  miss  you." 

This  was  not  quite  satisfactory,  to  Esther's  feel 
ing;  but  her  father's  wonted  way  was  somewhat 
dry  and  self-contained.  The  fact  that  this  was  an 
unwonted  occasion,  might  have  made  a  difference, 
she  thought;  and  was  a  little  disappointed  that  it 
did  not;  but  then,  as  the  colonel  went  back  to  his 
book,  she  put  off  further  discussions  till  supper 


252  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

time,  and  ran  away  to  see  to  some  of  the  house 
arrangements  which  she  had  upon  her  heart.  In 
these  she  was  soon  gayly  busy;  finding  the  work 
delightful  after  the  long  interval  of  purely  mental 
action.  She  had  done  a  good  many  things,  she 
felt  with  pleasure,  before  she  was  called  to  tea. 
Then  it  was  with  new  enjoyment  that  she  found 
herself  ministering  to  her  father  again;  making 
his  toast  just  as  he  liked  it,  pouring  out  his  tea, 
and  watching  over  his  wants.  The  colonel  seemed 
to  take  up  things  simply  where  she  had  left  them ; 
and  was  almost  as  silent  as  ever. 

"  Who  has  made  your  toast  while  I  have  been 
away,  papa  ? "  Esther  asked,  unable  to-night  to 
endure  this  silence. 

"  My  toast  ?     O  Barker,  of  course." 

"  Did  she  make  it  right  ?  " 

"  Eight  ?  My  dear,  I  have  given  up  expecting 
to  have  servants  do  some  things  as  they  ought  to 
be  done.  Toast  is  one  of  the  things.  They  are 
outside  of  the  limitations  of  the  menial  mind." 

"  What  is  the  reason,  papa  ?  Can't  they  be 
taught  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  my  dear.  I  never  have  been 
able  to  teach  them.  They  always  think  toast  is 
done  when  it  is  brown,  and  the  browner  the  better, 
I  should  say.  Also  it  is  beyond  their  comprehen 
sion  that  thickness  makes  a  difference.  There  was 
an  old  soldier  once  I  had  under  me  in  India;  he 
was  my  servant;  he  was  the  only  man  I  ever  saw 
who  could  make  a  piece  of  toast." 


THE  COLONEL'S  TOAST.  253 

"  What  are  some  of  the  other  things  that  can 
not  be  taughj",  papa?" 

"A  cup  of  tea." 

"  Does  not  Barker  make  your  tea  good ?  "  asked 
Esther  in  some  dismay. 

"  She  can  do  many  other  things,"  said  the  colonel. 
"She  is  a  very  competent  woman." 

''So  I  thought.  What  is  the  matter  with  the 
tea,  papa?  the  tea  she  makes?" 

"  I  don't  know,  my  dear,  what  the  matter  is. 
It  is  without  fragrance,  and  without  sprightli- 
ness,  and  generally  about  half  as  hot  as  it  ought 
to  be." 

"  No  good  toast  and  no  good  tea !  Papa,  I  am 
afraid  you  have  missed  me  very  much  at  meal 
times  ?  " 

"  I  have  missed  you  at  all  times — more  than  I 
thought  possible.  But  it  cannot  be  helped." 

"Papa,"  said  Esther,  suddenly  very  serious,  "can 
it  not  be  helped  ?  " 

"No,  my  dear.     How  should  it?  " 

"  I  might  stay  at  home." 

"  We  have  come  here  that  you  might  go  to 
school." 

"  But  if  it  is  to  your  hurt,  papa — " 

"  Not  the  question,  my  dear.  About  me  it  is  of 
no  consequence.  The  matter  in  hand  is,  that  you 
should  grow  up  to  be  a  perfect  woman — perfect  as 
your  mother  was;  that  would  have  been  her  wish, 
and  it  is  mine.  To  that  all  other  things  must  give 
way.  I  wish  you  to  have  every  information  and 


254  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

every  accomplishment  that  it  is  possible  for  you 
in  this  country  to  acquire." 

"  Is  there  not  as  good  a  chance  here  as  in  Eng 
land,  papa  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  'chance,'  my  dear?  Op 
portunity?  No;  there  cannot  yet  be  the  same 
advantages  here  as  in  an  old  country,  which  has 
been  educating  its  sons  and  its  daughters  in  the 
most  perfect  way  for  hundreds  of  years." 

Esther  pricked  up  her  ears.  The  box  of  coins 
recurred  to  her  memory,  and  sundry  conversations 
held  over  it  with  Pitt  Dallas.  Whereby  she  had 
certainly  got  an  impression  that  it  was  not  so  very 
long  since  England's  educational  provisions  and 
practices,  for  England's  daughters  at  least,  had 
been  open  to  great  criticism  and  displayed  great 
lack  of  the  desirable.  "  Hundreds  of  years"!  But 
she  offered  no  contradiction  to  her  father's  remark. 

"  I  would  like  you  to  be  equal  to  any  English 
woman  in  your  acquirements  and  accomplishments," 
he  repeated  musingly.  "So  far  as  in  New  York 
that  is  possible." 

"  I  will  try  what  I  can  do,  papa.  And  after  all, 
it  depends  more  on  the  girl  than  on  the  school, 
does  it  not  ?  " 

"  Humph ! — well,  a  good  deal  depends  on  you, 
certainly.  Did  Miss  Fairbairn  find  you  backward 
in  your  studies,  to  begin  with  ?  " 

"  Papa,"  said  Esther  slowly,  "  I  do  not  think  she 
did." 

"  Not  in  anything  ?  " 


THE  COLONEL'S  TOAST.  255 

"  In  French  and  music,  of  course." 

"  Of  course  !     But  in  history  ?  " 

"No,  papa." 

"Nor  in  Latin?" 

"0  no,  papa." 

"Then  you  can  take  your  place  well  with  the  rest  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,  papa." 

"Do  you  like  it?  And  does  Miss  Fairbairn  ap 
prove  of  you  ?  Has  the  week  been  pleasant  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir — I  like  it  very  much,  and  I  think  she 
likes  me — if  only  you  get  on  well,  papa.  How 
have  you  been  all  these  days  ?  " 

"  Not  very  well.  I  think,  not  so  well  as  at  Sea- 
forth.  The  air  here  does  not  agree  with  me.  There 
is  a  rawness — I  do  not  know  what — a  peculiar  qual 
ity,  which  I  did  not  find  at  Seaforth.  It  affects  my 
breast  disagreeably." 

"  But  dear  papa ! "  cried  Esther  in  dismay,  "  if 
this  place  does  not  agree  with  you,  do  not  let  us 
stay  here  !  Pray  do  not  for  me  !  " 

"  My  dear,  I  am  quite  willing  to  suffer  a  little 
for  your  good." 

"  But  if  is  bad  for  you,  papa  ? — " 

"  What  does  that  matter?  I  do  not  expect  to  live 
very  long  in  any  case ;  whether  a  little  longer  or  a 
little  shorter,  is  most  immaterial.  I  care  to  live 
only  so  far  as  I  can  be  of  service  to  you  and  while 
you  need  me,  my  child." 

"  Papa,  when  should  I  not  need  you  ?  "  cried  Es 
ther,  feeling  as  if  her  breath  were  taken  away  by 
this  view  of  things. 


256  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"The  children  grow  up  to  be  independent  of  the 
parents,"  said  the  colonel  somewhat  abstractly. 
"It  is  the  way  of  nature.  It  must  be;  for  the  old 
pass  away,  and  the  young  step  forward  to  fill  their 
places.  What  I  wish,  is  that  you  should  get  ready 
to  fill  your  place  well.  That  is  what  we  have  come 
here  for.  We  have  taken  the  step,  and  we  cannot 
go  back." 

"Couldn't  we,  papa? — if  New  York  is  not  good 
for  you  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear.     We  have  sold  our  Seaforth  place." 
"  Mr.  Dallas  would  sell  it  back  again." 
"I  shall  not  ask  him.     And  neither  do  I  desire 
to  have  it  back,  Esther.     I  have  come  here  on  good 
grounds,  and  on  those  grounds  I  shall  stay.     How 
I  personally  am  affected  by  the  change  is  of  little 
consequence." 

The  colonel  having  by  this  time  finished  his  third 
slice  of  toast  and  drunk  up  his  tea,  turned  to  his 
book.  Esther  remained  greatly  chilled  and  cast 
down.  Was  her  advantage  to  be  bought  at  the 
cost  of  shortening  her  father's  life  ?  Was  her  rich 
enjoyment  of  study  and  mental  growth  to  be  bal 
anced  by  suffering  and  weariness  on  his  part  ? — • 
every  day  of  her  new  life  in  school  to  be  paid  for 
by  such  a  day's  price  at  home  ?  Esther  could  not 
bear  to  think  it.  She  sat  pondering,  chewing  the 
bitter  cud  of  these  considerations.  She  longed  to 
discuss  them  further  and  get  rid  if  possible  of  her 
father's  dismal  conclusions;  but  with  him  she  could 
not,  and  there  was  no  other.  When  her  father  had 


THE  COLONEL'S  TOAST.  257 

settled  and  dismissed  a  subject,  she  could  rarely 
reopen  a  discussion  upon  it.  The  colonel  was  an 
old  soldier;  when  he  had  delivered  an  opinion  he 
had  in  a  sort  given  his  orders;  to  question  was 
almost  to  be  guilty  of  insubordination.  He  had 
gone  back  to  his  book,  and  Esther  dared  not  say 
another  word;  all  the  more  her  thoughts  burnt 
within  her;  and  for  a  long  time  she  sat  musing, 
going  over  a  great  many  things  besides  those  they 
had  been  talking  of 

"  Papa,"  she  said,  once  when  the  colonel  stirred 
and  let  his  book  fall  for  a  minute,  "  do  you  think 
Pitt  Dallas  will  come  home  at  all  ?  " 

"  William  Dallas  ?  why  should  he  not  come  home  ? 
His  parents  will  want  to  see  him.  I  have  some 
idea  they  expect  him  to  come  over  next  summer." 

"  To  stay,  papa  ?  " 

"  To  stay  the  vacation.  He  will  go  back  again 
of  course  to  keep  his  terms.1' 

"At  Oxford?" 

"Yes;  and  perhaps  afterwards  in  the  Temple." 

"The  Temple,  papa?  what  is  that?  " 

"  A  school  of  law.  Do  you  not  know  so  much, 
Esther?" 

"Is  he  going  to  be  a  lawyer  ?  " 

"His  father  wishes  him  to  study  for  some  pro 
fession,  and  in  that  he  is  as  usual  judicious.  The 
fact  that  William  will  have  a  great  deal  of  money 
does  not  affect  the  matter  at  all.  It  is  my  belief 
that  every  man  ought  to  have  a  profession.  It 
makes  him  more  of  a  man." 


258  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Do  you  think  Pitt  will  end  by  being  an  Eng 
lishman,  papa  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell,  my  dear.  That  would  depend  on 
circumstances,  probably.  I  should  think  it  very 
likely,  and  very  natural." 

"  But  he  is  an  American." 

"  Half." 

The  colonel  took  up  his  book  again. 

"  Papa,"  said  Esther  eagerly.,  "  do  you  think  Pitt 
will  come  to  see  us  here?  " 

"Come  to  see  us?  If  anything  brings  him  to 
New  York,  I  have  no  doubt  he  will  look  us  up." 

"  You  do  not  think  he  would  come  all  the  way 
on  purpose?  Papa,  he  would  be  very  much 
changed  if  he  did  not." 

"Impossible 'to  say,  my  dear.  He  is  very  likely 
to  have  changed."  And  the  colonel  went  back  to 
his  reading. 

Papa  does  not  care  about  it,  thought  Esther.  0 
can  Pitt  be  so  much  changed  as  that  ? 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

A  QUESTION. 

THE  identically  same  doubt  busied  some  minds 
in  another  quarter,  where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas 
sat  expecting  their  son  home.  They  were  not  so 
much  concerned  with  it  through  the  winter;  the 
Gainsboroughs  had  been  happily  got  rid  of  and  were 
no  longer  in  dangerous  proximity;  that  was  enough 
for  the  time.  But  as  the  spring  came  on  and  the 
summer  drew  nigh,  the  thought  would  reciir  to 
Pitt's  father  and  mother,  whether  after  all  they 
were  safe. 

"  He  mentions  them  in  every  letter  he  writes," 
Mrs.  Dallas  said.  She  and  her  husband  were  sit 
ting  as  usual  in  their  respective  easy  chairs  on 
either  side  of  the  fire.  Not  for  that  they  were  in 
firm,  for  there  was  nothing  of  that;  they  were  only 
comfortable.  Mrs.  Dallas  was  knitting  some  bright 
wools,  just  now  mechanically  and  with  a  knitted 
brow;  her  husband's  brow  shewed  no  disturbance. 
It  never  did. 

"That's  habit," — he  answered  to  his  wife's  re 
mark. 

(259) 


260  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  But  habit  with  Pitt  is  a  tenacious  thing.  What 
will  he  do  when  he  comes  home  and  finds  they  are 
gone  ?  " 

"Make  himself  happy  without  them,  I  expect." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  like  Pitt." 

"You  knew  Pitt  two  and  a  half  years  ago.  He 
was  a  boy  then;  he  will  be  a  man  now." 

"  Do  you  expect  the  man  will  be  different  from 
the  boy?" 

"  Generally  are.  And  Pitt  has  been  going  through 
a  process." 

"  I  can  see  something  of  that  in  his  letters,"  said 
the  mother  thoughtfully.  "  Not  much." 

"  You  will  see  more  of  it  when  he  comes.  What 
do  you  say  in  answer  to  his  inquiries  ?  " 

"About  the  Gainsboroughs?  Nothing.  I  never 
allude  to  them." 

Silence.  Mr.  Dallas  read  his  paper  comfortably. 
Mrs.  Dallas's  brow  was  still  careful. 

"  It  would  be  like  him  as  he  used  to  be,  if  he  were 
to  make  the  journey  to  New  York  to  find  them. 
And  if  we  should  seem  to  oppose  him,  it  might  set 
his  fancy  seriously  in  that  direction.  There's  dan 
ger,  husband.  Pitt  is  very  persistent." 

"  Don't  see  much  to  tempt  him  in  that  direction." 

"  Beauty  !  And  Pitt  knows  he  will  have  money 
enough;  he  would  not  care  for  that." 

"  I  do," — said  Mr.  Dallas,  without  ceasing  to  read 
his  paper. 

"  I  would  not  mind  the  girl  being  poor,"  Mrs. 
Dallas  went  on, — "  for  Pitt  will  have  money  enough 


A  QUESTION.  261 

— enough  for  both;  but  Hildebrand,  they  are  in 
corrigible  dissenters,  and  I  do  not  want  Pitt's  wife 
to  be  of  that  persuasion." 

"  I  won't  have  it,  either." 

"Then  we  shall  do  well  to  think  how  we  can 
prevent  it.  If  we  could  have  somebody  here  to 
take  up  his  attention  at  least — " 

44  Preoccupy  the  ground — "  said  Mr.  Dallas.  "  The 
colonel  would  say  that  is  good  strategy." 

"  I  do  not  mean  strategy,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas.  "  I 
want  Pitt  to  fancy  a  woman  proper  for  him,  in  every 
respect." 

"Exactly.  Have  you  one  in  your  eye?  Here 
in  America  it  is  difficult." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Betty  Frere." 

"Humph!  If  she  could  catch  him, — she  might 
do." 

"She  has  no  money;  but  she  has  family,  and 
beauty." 

"  You  understand  these  things  better  than  I  do," 
said  Mr.  Dallas,  half  amused,  half  sharing  his  wife's 
anxiety.  "  Would  she  make  a  comfortable  daugh 
ter-in-law  for  you  ?  " 

"  That  is  secondary — "  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  still  with 
a  raised  brow,  knitting  her  scarlet  and  blue  with 
out  knowing  what  colour  went  through  her  fingers. 
Perhaps  her  husband's  tone  had  implied  doubt. 

"If  she  can  catch  him — "  Mr.  Dallas  repeated. 
"There  is  no  calculating  on  these  things.  Cupid's 
arrows  fly  wild — for  the  most  part." 

"  I  will  ask  her  to  come  and  spend  the  summer 


262  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

here,"  Mrs.  Dallas  went  on.     "There  is  nothing 
like  propinquity." 

In  those  days  the  crossing  of  the  Atlantic  was 
a  long  business,  done  solely  by  the  help  or  with 
the  hindrance  of  the  winds.  And  there  was  no 
telegraphing,  to  give  the  quick  notice  of  a  loved 
one's  arrival  as  soon  as  he  touched  the  shore.  So 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas  had  an  anxious  time  of  watch 
ing  and  uncertainty,  for  they  could  not  tell  when 
Pitt  might  be  with  them.  It  lasted,  this  time  of 
anxiety,  till  Seaforth  had  been  in  its  full  summer 
dress  for  some  weeks;  and  it  was  near  the  end  of  a 
fair  warm  day  in  July  that  he  at  last  came.  The 
table  was  set  for  tea,  and  the  master  and  mistress 
of  the  house  were  seated  in  their  places  on  either 
side  the  fireplace,  where  now  instead  of  a  fire  there 
was  a  huge  jar  full  of  hemlock  branches.  The  slant 
sunbeams  were  stretching  across  the  village  street, 
making  that  peaceful  alternation  of  broad  light 
and  still  shadows  which  is  so  reposeful  to  the  eye 
that  looks  upon  it.  Then  Mrs.  Dallas's  eye,  which 
was  not  equally  reposeful,  saw  a  buggy  drive  up 
and  stop  before  the  gate,  and  her  worsteds  fell 
from  her  hands  and  her  lap  as  she  rose. 

"Husband,  he  is  come"  —  she  said,  with  the 
quietness  of  intensity;  and  the  next  moment  Pitt 
was  there. 

Yes,  he  had  grown  to  be  a  man ;  he  was  changed ; 
there  was  the  conscious  gravity  of  a  man  in  his 
look  and  bearing;  the  cool  collectedness  that  be 
longs  to  maturer  years;  the  traces  of  thought  and 


A  QUESTION.  263 

the  lines  of  purpose.  It  had  been  all  more  or 
less  to  be  seen  in  her  boy  before,  but  now  the  mo 
ther  confessed  to  herself  the  growth  and  increase 
of  every  manly  and  promising  trait  in  the  face  and 
figure  she  loved.  That  is,  as  soon  as  the  first  rush  of 
delight  had  had  its  due  expression  and  the  first  broken 
and  scattering  words  were  spoken,  and  the  three 
sat  down  to  look  at  each  other.  The  mother  watched 
the  broad  brow,  which  was  whiter  than  it  used  to 
be ;  the  fine  shoulders  which  were  even  straighter 
and  broader  than  of  old ;  and  the  father  noticed  that 
his  son  overtopped  him.  And  Mrs.  Dallas's  eyes 
shone  with  an  incipient  moisture  which  betrayed  a 
soft  mood  she  had  to  combat  with ;  for  she  was  not  a 
woman  who  liked  sentimental  scenes;  while  in  her 
husband's  grey  orbs  there  flashed  out  every  now 
and  then  a  fire  of  satisfied  pride,  which  was  touch 
ing  in  one  whose  face  rarely  betrayed  feeling  of 
any  kind.  Pitt  was  just  the  fellow  he  had  hoped 
to  see  him;  and  Oxford  had  been  just  the  right 
place  to  send  him  to.  He  said  little;  it  was  the 
other  two  who  did  most  of  the  talking.  The  talk 
ing  itself  for  some  time  was  of  that  disjointed,  in 
significant  character  which  is  all  that  can  get  out 
when  minds  are  so  full,  and  enough  when  hearts  are 
so  happy.  Indeed  for  all  that  evening  they 'could 
riot  advance  much  farther.  Eyes  supplemented 
tongues  sufficiently.  It  was  not  till  a  night's  sleep 
and  the  light  of  a  new  day  had  brought  them  in  a  man 
ner  to  themselves  that  anything  less  fragmentary 
could  be  entered  upon.  At  breakfast  all  parties 


264  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

seemed  to  have  settled  down  into  a  sober  conscious 
ness  of  satisfied  desire.  Then  Mr.  Dallas  asked  his 
son  how  he  liked  Oxford  ? 

Pitt  exhausted  himself  in  giving  both  the  how 
and  the  why.  Yet  no  longer  like  a  boy. 

.  "  Think  you'll  end  by  settling  in  England,  eh  ?  " 
said  his  father,  with  seeming  carelessness. 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  it,  sir." 

"  What's  made  old  Strahan  take  such  a  fancy  to 
you  ?  Seems  to  be  a  regular  love  affair." 

"  He  is  a  good  friend  to  me,"  Pitt  answered  se 
riously.  "  He  has  shewn  it  in  many  ways." 

"  He'll  put  you  in  his  will,  I  expect." 

"  I  think  he  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  He 
knows  I  will  have  enough." 

"  Nobody  knows  it,"  said  the  older  Dallas  dryly. 
"  I  might  lose  all  my  money,  for  anything  you  can 
tell." 

The  younger  man's  eyes  flashed  with  a  noble 
sparkle  in  them.  **  What  I  say  is  still  true,  sir. 
What  is  the  use  of  Oxford?  " 

*'  Humph  !  "  said  his  father.  "  The  use  of  Oxford 
is,  to  teach  young  men  of  fortune  to  spend  their 
money  elegantly." 

*'  Or  to  enable  young  men  who  have  no  fortune 
to  do  elegantly  without  it." 

"  There  is  no  doing  elegantly  without  money, 
and  plenty  of  it,"  said  the  elder  man,  looking  from 
under  lowered  eyelids,  in  a  peculiar  way  he  had,  at 
his  son.  "Plenty  of  it,  I  tell  you.  You  cannot 
have  too  much." 


A   QUESTION.  265 

"Money  is  a  good  dog." 

"  A  good  what  ?  " 

"  A  good  servant,  sir,  I  should  say.  You  may 
see  a  case  occasionally  where  it  has  got  to  be  the 
master," 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"A  man  unable  to  be  anything  and  spoiled  for 
doing  anything  worth  while,  because  he  has  so 
much  of  it;  a  man  whose  property  is  so  large  that 
he  has  come  to  look  upon  money  as  the  first  thing." 

"It  is  the  first  thing  and  the  last  thing,  I  can 
tell  you.  Without  it,  a  man  has  to  play  second 
fiddle  to  somebody  else  all  his  life." 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  no  independence  but  that 
of  the  purse,  sir  ?  " 

"  Beggarly  little  use  in  any  other  kind.  In  fact 
there  is  not  any  other  kind,  Pitt.  What  passes 
for  it  is  just  fancy,  and  struggling  to  make  believe. 
The  really  independent  man  is  the  man  who  need 
not  ask  anybody  else's  leave  to  do  anything." 

Pitt  let  the  question  drop,  and  went  on  with  his 
breakfast,  for  which  he  seemed  to  have  a  good  ap 
petite.  "Your  muffins  are  as  good  as  ever,  mo 
ther,"  he  remarked. 

Mrs.  Dallas,  to  judge  by  her  face,  found  nothing 
in  this  world  so  pleasant  as  to  see  Pitt  eat  his  break 
fast,  and  nothing  in  the  world  so  important  to  do 
as  to  furnish  him  with  satisfactory  material.  Yet 
she  was  not  a  foolish  woman,  and  preserved  all  the 
time  her  somewhat  stately  presence  and  manner; 
it  was  in  little  actions  and  words  now  and  then 


266  A  RED  WALLFLOWER 

that  this  care  for  her  son's  indulgence  and  delight 
in  it  made  itself  manifest.  It  was  manifest  enough 
to  the  two  who  sat  at  breakfast  with  her;  Mr. 
Dallas  observing  it  with  a  secret  smile,  his  son 
with  a  grateful  swelling  of  the  heart,  which  a 
glance  and  a  word  sometimes  conveyed  to  his  mo 
ther.  Mrs.  Dallas's  contentment  this  morning  was 
absolute  and  unqualified.  There  could  be  no  doubt 
what  Betty  Frere  would  think,  she  said  to  herself. 
Every  quality  that  ought  to  grace  a  young  man, 
she  thought  she  saw  embodied  before  her.  The 
broad  brow,  and  the  straight  eyebrow,  and  the 
firm  lips,  expressed  what  was  congenial  to  Mrs. 
Dallas's  soul ;  a  mingling  of  intelligence  and  will, 
well  defined,  clear  and  strong;  but  also  sweet. 
There  was  thoughtfulness  but  no  shadow  in  the 
fine  hazel  eyes;  no  cloud  on  the  brow;  and  the 
smile  when  it  came  was  frank  and  affectionate. 
His  manner  pleased  Mrs.  Dallas  infinitely ;  it  had 
all  the  finish  of  the  best  breeding,  and  she  was 
able  to  recognize  this. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  be,  Pitt  ?  "  his  father 
broke  in  upon  some  laughing  talk  that  was  going 
on  between  mother  and  son. 

"  To  be,  sir  ?     I  beg  your  pardon  !  " 

"  After  you  have  done  with  Oxford,  or  with 
your  college  course.  You  know  I  intend  you  to 
study  for  a  profession.  Which  profession  would 
you  choose  ?  " 

Pitt  was  silent. 

"  Have  you  ever  thought  about  it  ?  " 


A  QUESTION.  267 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  have  thought  about  it." 

"  What  conclusion  did  you  come  to  ?  " 

"  To  none,  yet,"  the  young  man  answered  slowly. 
"  It  must  depend." 

"On  what? 

"  Partly, — on  what  conclusion  I  come  to  respect 
ing  something  else,"  Pitt  went  on  in*  the  same 
manner,  which  immediately  fastened  his  mother's 
attention. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  go  on  and  explain  yourself," 
said  his  father.  "  It  is  good  that  we  should  under 
stand  one  another." 

Yet  Pitt  was  silent. 

"Is  it  anything  private  and  secret?"  his  father 
asked  half  laughing,  although  with  a  touch  of 
sharp  curiosity  in  his  look. 

"  Private — not  secret,"  Pitt  answered  thought 
fully,  too  busy  with  his  own  thoughts  to  regard 
his  father's  manner.  "  At  least  the  conclusion  can 
not  be  secret." 

"It  might  do  no  harm  to  discuss  the  subject," 
said  his  father,  still  lightly. 

"  I  cannot  see  how  it  would  do  any  good.  It  is 
my  own  affair.  And  I  thought  it  might  be  better 
to  wait  till  the  conclusion  was  reached.  However, 
that  may  not  be  in  some  time ;  and  if  you  wish — " 

"  We  wish  to  share  in  whatever  is  interesting 
you,  Pitt,"  his  mother  said  gently. 

"  Yes,  mother,  but  at  present  things  are  not  in 
any  order  to  please  you.  You  had  better  wait  till 
I  see  daylight." 


268  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Is  it  a  question  of  marriage^"  asked  his  father 
suddenly. 

"No,  sir." 

"A  question  of  uncle  Strahan's  wishes?"  sug 
gested  Mrs.  Dallas. 

"  No,  mother."-  And  then  with  a  little  hesita 
tion  he  weftt  on, — "  I  have  been  thinking  merely 
what  master  I  would  serve.  Upon  that  would 
depend,  in  part,  what  service  I  would  do; — of 
course." 

"What  master?  Mars  or  Minerva,  to  wit?  or 
possibly  Apollo  ?  Or  what  was  the  god  who  was 
supposed  to  preside  over  the  administration  of 
justice  ?  I  forget." 

"  No,  sir.     My  question  was  broader." 

"Broader!" 

"  It  was,  briefly,  the  question  whether  I  would 
serve  God  or  Mammon." 

"  I  profess  I  do  not  understand  you  now !  '  said 
his  father. 

"You  are  aware,  sir,  the  world  is  divided  on 
that  question;  making  two  parties.  Before  going 
any  further,  I  had  a  mind  .to  determine  to  which 
of  them  I  would  belong.  How  can  a  navigator 
lay  his  course,  unless  he  knows  his  goal  ?  " 

"  But  my  boy,"  said  his  mother  now  anxiously 
and  perplexedly,  "  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  It  amounts  to  the  question,  whether  I  would 
be  a  Christian,  mother." 

Mr.  Dallas  slewed  his  chair  round,  so  as  to  bring 
his  face  somewhat  out  of  sight;  Mrs.  Dallas,  obey- 


A   QUESTION.  2G9 

ing  the  same  instinctive  impulse,  kept  hers  hidden 
behind  the  screen  of  her  coffee  urn,  for  she  would 
not  her  son  should  see  in  it  the  effect  of  his  words. 
Her  answer  however  was  instantaneous — 

"  But  rny  dear,  you  are  a  Christian." 

"  Am  I  ?     Since  when,  mother  ?  " 

"  Pitt,  you  were  baptized  in  infancy, — you  were 
baptized  by  that  good  and  excellent  Bishop  Down 
ing,  as  good  a  man,  and  as  holy,  as  ever  was 
consecrated,  here  or  anywhere.  He  baptized  you 
before  you  were  two  months  old.  That  made  you 
a  Christian,  my  boy." 

"  What  sort  of  a  one,  mother  ?  " 

"Why  my  dear,  you  were  taught  your  cate 
chism.  Have  you  forgotten  it  ?  In  baptism  you 
were  made  'a  member  of  Christ,  a  child  of  God, 
and  an  inheritor  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'  You 
have  learned  those  words,  often  enough,  and  said 
them  over." 

"That  will  do  to  talk  about,  mother,"  said  Pitt 
slowly ; — "  but  in  what  sense  is  it  true  ?  " 

"  My  dear ! — in  every  sense.  How  can  you  ask  ? 
It  is  part  of  the  Prayer-book." 

"It  is  not  part  of  my  experience.  Up  to  this 
time,  my  life  and  conscience  know  nothing  about 
it.  Mother,  the  Bible  gives  certain  marks  of  the 
people  whom  it  calls  'disciples'  and  'Christians.' 
I  do  not  find  them  in  myself." 

Pitt  lifted  his  head  and  looked  at  his  mother  as 
he  spoke;  a  grave,  frank,  most  manly  expression 
filling  his  face.  Mrs.  Dallas  met  the  look  with  one 


270  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

of  intense  worry  and  perplexity.  "What  do  you 
mean?"  she  said  helplessly;  while  a  sudden  shove 
of  her  husband's  chair  spoke  for  his  mood  of  mind, 
in  its  irritated  restlessness.  "Marks?"  she  re 
peated.  if  Christians  are  not  marked  from  other 
people." 

"  As  I  read  the  Bible,  it  seems  to  me  they  must 
be." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  said  shortly. 
"I  hope  you  will  explain  yourself." 

"I  owe  it  to  you  to  answer,"  the  young  man 
said  thoughtfully;  "  it  is  better,  perhaps,  you  should 
know  where  I  am,  that  you  may  at  least  be  patient 
with  me  if  I  do  not  respond  quite  as  you  would 
wish  to  your  expectations.  Mother,  I  have  been 
studying  this  matter  a  great  while;  but  as  to  the 
preliminary  question,  whether  I  am  already  what 
the  Bible  describes  Christians  to  be,  I  have  been 
under  no  delusion  at  all.  The  marks  are  plain 
enough,  and  they  are  not  in  me." 

"  What  marks  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  personal  matter,"  Pitt  went  on  a  little 
unwillingly;  "it  must  be  fought  through  somehow 
in  my  own  mind ;  but  some  things  are  plain  enough. 
Mother,  the  servants  of  Christ  'follow' him;  it  is 
the  test  of  their  service; — I  never  did,  nor  ever 
thought  or  cared  what  the  words  meant.  The 
children  of  God  are  known  by  the  fact  that  they 
love  him  and  keep  his  commandments.  So  the 
Bible  says.  I  have  not  loved  him,  and  have  not 
asked  about  his  commandments.  I  have  always 


A  QUESTION.  271 

sought  my  own  pleasure.  The  heirs  of  the  king 
dom  of  heaven  have  chosen  that  world  instead  of 
this;  and  between  the  two  is  just  the  choice  I  have 
yet  to  make.  That  is  precisely  where  I  am." 

"But  my  dear  Pitt,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  while 
her  husband  kept  an  ominous  silence,  "  you  have 
always  led  a  most  blameless  life.  I  think  yom 
judge  yourself  too  hardly.  You  have  been  a  good 
son,  always !  "  and  her  eyes  filled,  partly  with 
affection  and  partly  with  chagrin.  To  what  was 
all  this  tending  ?  "  You  have  alivays  been  a  good 
son,"  she  repeated. 

"  To  you,  mother.     Yes,  I  hope  so." 

"  And  my  dear,  you  were  confirmed.  What  did 
that  mean  ?  " 

"  It  meant  nothing,  mother,  so  far  as  I  was  con 
cerned.  It  amounted  to  nothing.  1  did  not  know 
what  I  was  doing.  I  did  not  think  of  the  meaning 
the  words  might  bear.  It  was  to  me  a  mere  form, 
done  because  you  wished  it  and  because  it  was  said 
to  be  proper;  the  right  thing  to  do;  I  attached 
xjo  weight  to  it,  and  lived  just  the  same  after  as 
before.  Except  that  for  a  few  days  I  went  under 
a  little  feeling  of  constraint,  I  remember,  and  also 
carried  my  head  higher  with  a  sense  of  added 
dignity." 

"And  what  is  your  idea  of  a  Christian  now, 
then?"  Mrs.  Dallas  asked,  between  trouble  and 
indignation. 

"  I  am  merely  taking  what  the  Bible  says  about 
it,  mother." 


272  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Which  every  man  interprets  for  himself," 
added  Mr.  Dallas  dryly. 

"  Where  words  are  so  plain,  there  can  hardly  be 
any  question  of  interpretation.  For  instance—" 

"Let  that  be,"  said  Mr.  Dallas;  "and  tell  us,  if 
you  can,  what  is  your  idea  of  the  *  choice '  you  say 
you  have  to  make.  A  choice  between  what? " 

"The  one  thing  runs  into  the  other,"  said  Pitt; 
"but  it  does  not  signify  at  which  end  we  begin. 
The  question  is,  I  suppose,  in  short,  which  world  I 
will  live  for." 

"  Live  for  both  !     That  is  the  sensible  way." 
'But,  if  you  will  pardon  me,  sir, — impracticable. 
"  How  impracticable  ?  " 

"  It  has  been  declared  so  by  the  highest  authority, 
and  it  has  been  found  so  in  practice.  I  see  it  to 
be  impracticable." 

"  /  do  not.  Where's  the  impracticability  ?  "  Mr. 
Dallas  had  wheeled  round  now  and  was  regarding 
his  son  attentively,  with  a  face  of  superior,  cold, 
rather  scornful  calm.  Mr.  Dallas's  face  was 
rarely  anything  else  but  calm,  whatever  might  be 
going  on  beneath  the  calm.  Pitt's  face  was  not 
exactly  so  quiet;  thought  was  working  in  it,  and 
lights  and  shades  sometimes  passed  over  it,  which 
his  father  carefully  studied.  "  Where's  the  impossi 
bility  ?  "  he  repeated,  as  Pitt's  answer  tarried. 
"  The  impossibility  of  walking  two  ways  at  once." 
"Will  you  explain  yourself?  I  do  not  see  the 
application." 

He  spoke  with  clear  coldness,  perhaps  expecting 


A   QUESTION.  273 

that  his  son  would  be  checked  or  embarrassed  by 
coming  against  that  barrier  to  enthusiasm,  a  cold, 
hard  intellect.  Pitt  however  was  quite  as  devoid 
of  enthusiasm  at  the  moment  as  his  father,  and  far 
more  sure  of  his  ground,  while  his  intellect  was 
full  as  much  astir.  His  steadiness  was  not  shaken, 
rather  gained  force,  as  he  went  on  to  speak;  though 
he  did  not  now  lift  his  eyes,  but  sat  looking  down 
at  the  white  damask  which  covered  the  breakfast 
table,  having  pushed  his  plate  and  cup  away  from 
him. 

"  Father  and  mother,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  look 
ing  at  two  opposite  goals.  On  one  side  there  is — 
what  people  usually  strive  for;  honour,  pleasure, 
a  high  place  in  the  world's  regard.  If  I  seek  that, 
I  know  what  I  have  to  do.  I  suppose  it  is  what 
you  want  me  to  do.  I  should  distinguish  myself, 
if  I  can;  climb  the  heights  of  greatness;  make  my 
self  a  name,  and  a  place,  and  then  live  there,  as 
much  above  the  rest  of  the  world  as  1  can  and  en 
joying  all  the  advantages  of  my  position.  That 
is  about  what  I  thought  I  would  do,  when  I  went 
to  Oxford.  It  is  a  career  bounded  by  this  world 
and  ended  when  one  quits  it.  You.  ask  why  it  is 
impossible  to  do  this  and  the  other  thing  too  ?  Just 
look  at  if.  If  I  become  a  servant  of  Christ,  I  give 
up  seeking  earthly  honour;  I  do  not  live  for  my 
own  pleasure;  I  apply  all  I  have,  of  talents  or  means 
or  influence,  to  doing  the  will  of  a  master  whose 
kingdom  is  not  of  this  world  and  whose  ways  are 
not  liked  by  the  world.  I  see  very  plainly  what 


274  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

his  commands  are,  and  they  bid  one  be  unlike  the 
world  and  separate  from  it. — Do  you  see  the  im 
possibility  I  spoke  of?" 

"But  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas  eagerly,  "you 
exaggerate  things!  " 

"  Which  things,  mother?" 

"It  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  be  unlike  the 
world ;  that  is  extravagance." 

Pitt  rose,  went  to  the  table  where  a  large  family 
Bible  and  book  of  Common  Prayer  lay,  and  fetched 
the  Bible  to  the  breakfast-table.  During  which 
procedure  Mr.  Dallas  shoved  his  chair  round  again, 
to  gain  his  former  position,  and  Mrs.  Dallas  passed 
her  hand  over  her  eyes  once  or  twice;  with  her  a 
gesture  of  extreme  disturbance.  Pitt  brought  his 
book,  opened  it  on  the  table  before  him,  and  after 
a  little  turning  of  the  leaves  stopped  and  read  the 
following. — 

"  '  If  ye  were  of  the  world,  the  world  would  love 
his  own ;  but  because  ye  are  not  of  the  world,  but 
I  have  chosen  you  out  of  the  world,  therefore  the 
world  hateth  you.'" 

"Yes,  at  that  time''  said  Mrs.  Dallas  eagerly. 
"At  that  time.  Then  the  heathen  made  great 
opposition.  All  that  is  past  now." 

"Was  it  only  the  heathen,  mother?" 

"Well,  the  Jews,  of  course.11   They  were  as  bad." 

"Why  were  they?  Just  for  this  reason,  that 
they  loved  the  praise  of  men  more  than  the  praise 
of  God.  They  chose  this  world.  But  the  apostle 
James, — here  it  is, — he  wrote, 


A  QUESTION.  275 

"  '  Whosoever  will  be  a  friend  of  the  world,  is  the 
enemy  of  God.' " 

"  Wouldn't  you  then  be  a  friend  of  the  world, 
Pitt?  "  his  mother  asked  reprovingly. 

"I  should  say,"  Mr.  Dallas  remarked  with  an 
amused,  indifferent  tone,  "  I  should  say  that  Pitt 
had  been  attending  a  conventicle;  only  at  Oxford 
that  is  hardly  possible." 

The  young  man  made  no  answer  to  either 
speaker;  he  remained  with  his  head  bent  down 
over  the  Bible,  and  a  face  almost  stern  in  its 
gravity.  Mrs.  Dallas  presently  repeated  her  ques 
tion. 

"  Pitt, would  you  not  be  a  friend  to  the  world?" 

"That  is  the  question,  mother,"  he  said,  lifting 
his  face  to  look  at  her.  "  I  thought  it  right  to  tell 
you  all  this,  that  you  may  know  just  where  I  stand. 
Of  course  I  have  thought  of  the  question  of  a  pro 
fession;  but  this  other  comes  first,  and  1  feel  it 
ought  first  to  be  decided." 

With  which  utterance  the  young  man  rose,  put 
the  big  Bible  in  its  place,  and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTEK  XXIII. 

A    DEBATE. 

THE  two  who  were  left  sat  still  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  without  speaking.     Mrs.  Dallas  once 
again  made  that  gesture  of  her  hand  across  her 
brow. 

"You  need  not  disturb  yourself,  wife,"  said  her 
husband  presently.  "  Young  men  must  have  a 
turn  at  being  fools,  once  in  a  way.  It  is  not  much 
in  Pitt's  way;  but  however,  it  seems  his  turn  has 
come.  There  are  worse  types  of  the  disorder.  I 
would  rather  have  this  Puritan  scruple  to  deal  with 
than  some  other  things.  The  religious  craze  passes 
off  easier  than  a  fancy  for  drinking  or  gambling; 
it  is  hot  while  it  lasts,  but  it  is  easier  to  cure." 

"  But  Pitt  is  so  persistent !  " 

"  In  other  things.  You  will  see  it  will  not  be  so 
with  this." 

"  He's  very  persistent,"  repeated  the  mother.  "He 
always  did  stick  to  anything  he  once  resolved  upon." 

"  He  is  not  resolved  upon  this  yet.     Distraction 
is  the  best  thing,  not  talk.     Where's  Betty  Frere  ? 
I  thought  she  was  coming." 
'276) 


A  DEBATE.  277 

"  She  is  coming.  She  will  be  here  in  a  few 
days.  I  cannot  imagine  what  has  set  Pitt  upon 
this  strange  way  of  thinking.  He  has  got  hold 
of  some  Methodist,  or  some  other  dreadful  person ; 
but  where?  It  couldn't  be  at  Oxford;  and  I  am 
certain  it  was  never  in  uncle  Strahan's  house; 
where  could  it  be  ?  " 

"  Methodism  began  at  Oxford,  my  dear." 

"It  is  one  mercy,  that  the  Gainsboroughs  are 
gone." 

"  Yes,"  said  her  husband ;  "  that  was  well  done. 
Does  he  know  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  told  him.  He  will  be  asking 
about  them  directly." 

"  Say  as  little  as  you  can,  and  get  Betty  Frere  here." 

Pitt  meanwhile  had  gone  to  his  old  room,  his 
work  room,  the  scene  of  many  a  pleasant  hour, 
and  where  those  aforetime  lessons  to  Esther  Gains 
borough  had  been  given.  He  stood  and  looked 
about  him.  All  was  severe  order  and  emptiness, 
telling  that  the  master  had  been  away;  his  treas 
ures  were  safe  packed  up,  under  lock  and  key,  or 
stowed  away  upon  cupboard  shelves;  there  was  no 
pleasant  litter  on  tables  and  floor,  alluring  to  work 
or  play.  Was  that  old  life,  of  work  and  play  which 
mixed  and  mingled,  lighthearted  and  SAveet,  gone 
for  ever  ?  Pitt  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor 
looking  about  him,  gathering  up  many  a  broken 
thread  of  association ;  and  then,  obeying  an  impulse 
which  had  been  on  him  all  the  morning,  he  turned, 
caught  up  his  hat,  and  went  out. 


278  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

He  loitered  down  the  village  street.  It  was  rnid- 
morning  now,  the  summer  sun  beating  down  on 
the  wide  space  and  making  every  big  tree  shadow 
grateful.  Great  over-arching  elms,  sometimes  an 
oak  or  a  maple,  ranged  along  in  straight  course 
and  near  neighbourhood,  making  the  village  look 
green  and  bowery,  and  giving  the  impression  of 
an  easy-going  thrift  and  habit  of  pleasant  condi 
tions,  which  perhaps  was  not  untrue  to  the  char 
acter  of  the  people.  The  capital  order  in  which 
everything  was  kept  confirmed  the  impression. 
Pitt  however  was  not  thinking  of  this,  though  he 
noticed  it;  the  village  was  familiar  to  him  from  his 
childhood  and  looked  just  as  it  had  always  done, 
only  that  the  elms  and  maples  had  grown  a  little 
more  bowery  with  every  year.  He  walked  along, 
not  thinking  of  that,  nor  seeing  the  roses  and  syringa 
blossoms  which  gave  him  a  sweet  breath  out  of 
some  of  the  gardens.  He  was  not  in  a  hurry.  He 
was  going  back  in  mind  to  that  which  furnished 
the  real  answer  to  his  mother's  wondering  query, — 
whence  Pitt  could  have  got  his  new  ideas?  It 
was  nobody  at  Oxford  or  in  London,  neither  con 
venticle  nor  discourse;  but  a  girl's  letter.  He 
went  on  and  on,  thinking  of  it  and  of  the  writer. 
What  would  she  say  to  his  disclosures,  which  his 
father  and  mother  could  do  nothing  with  ?  Would 
she  be  in  condition  to  give  him  the  help  he  knew 
he  must  not  expect  from  them?  She,  a  girl?  who 
did  not  know  the  world?  Yet  she  was  the  goal 
of  Pitt's  present  thoughts,  and  her  house  the  point 


A   DEBATE.  279 

his  footsteps  were  seeking,  slowly  and  thought 
fully. 

He  was  not  in  a  hurry.  Indeed  he  was  too  ab- 
sorbedly  busy  with  his  own  cogitations  and  ques 
tions  to  give  full  place  to  the  thought  of  Esther 
and  the  visit  he  was  about  to  make.  Besides,  it 
was  not  as  in  the  old  time.  He  had  no  image 
before  him  now  of  a  forlorn,  lonely  child,  awaiting 
his  coming  as  the  flowers  look  for  the  sun.  Things 
were  rather  turned  about;  he  thought  of  Esther 
as  the  one  in  the  sunlight,  and  himself  as  in  need 
of  illumination.  He  thought  of  her  as  needing  no 
comfort  that  he  could  give;  he  half  hoped  to  find 
the  way  to  peace  through  her  leading.  But  yes, 
she  would  be  glad  to  see  him ;  she  would  not  have 
forgotten  him  nor  lost  her  old  affection  for  her  old 
playfellow;  though  the  entire  cessation  of  letters 
from  either  her  or  her  father  had  certainly  been 
inexplicable.  Probably  it  might  be  explained  by 
some  crankiness  ol  the  colonel.  Esther  would  cer 
tainly  be  glad  to  see  him.  He  quickened  his  steps 
to  reach  the  house. 

He  hardly  knew  it  when  he  came  to  it,  the 
aspect  of  things  was  so  different  from  what  he 
remembered.  Truly  it  had  been  always  a  quiet 
house,  with  never  a  rush  of  company  or  a  crowd 
of  voices;  but  there  had  been  life;  and  now? — Pitt 
stood  still  at  the  little  gate  and  looked,  with  a 
sudden  blank  of  disappointment.  There  could  be 
nobody  there.  The  house  was  shut  up  and  dead. 
Not  a  window  was  open ;  not  a  door.  In  the  little 


280  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

front  garden  the  flowers  had  grown  up  wild  and 
were  struggling  with  weeds;  the  grass  of  the  lawn 
at  the  side  was  rank  and  unmown;  the  honeysuckle 
vines  in  places  were  hanging  loose  and  uncared-for; 
waving  in  the  wind  in  a  way  that  said  eloquently, 
"  Nobody  is  here."  There  was  not  much  wind  that 
summer  day,  just  enough  to  move  the  honeysuckle 
sprays.  Pitt  stood  and  looked  and  queried;  then 
yielding  to  some  unconscious  impulse,  he  went  in 
through  the  neglected  flowers  to  the  deserted  ve 
randah,  and  spent  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  twining 
and  securing  the  loose  vines.  He  was  thinking 
hard  all  the  time.  -This  was  the  place  where  he 
remembered  sitting  with  Esther  that  day  when  she 
asked  help  of  him  about  getting  comfort.  He  re 
membered  it  well;  he  recalled  the  girl's  subdued 
manner,  and  the  sorrowful  craving  in  the  large 
beautiful  eyes.  Now.  Esther  had  found  what  she 
sought,  and  to-day  he  was  nearly  as  unable  to 
understand  her  as  he  had  been  to  help  her  then. 
He  fastened  up  the  honeysuckle  vines;  and  then 
he  went  and  sat  down  on  the  step  of  the  verandah 
and  took  Esther's  letter  out  of  his  breast  pocket, 
and  read  it  over.  He  had  read  it  many  times.  He 
did  not  comprehend  it;  but  this  he  comprehended, 
— that  to  her  at  least  there  was  something  in  re 
ligion  more  heartfelt  than  a  form,  and  more  satis 
fying  than  a  profession.  To  her  it  was  a  reality. 
The  letter  had  set  him  thinking,  and  he  had  been 
thinking  ever  since.  He  had  come  here  this  morn 
ing,  hoping  that  in  talking  with  her  she  might 


A  DEBATE.  281 

perhaps  give  him  some  more  light;  and  now,  she 
had  disappeared.  Strange,  that  his  mother  should 
not  have  told  him !  What  could  be  the  explana 
tion  of  this  sudden  disappearance  ?  Disaster  or 
death  it  could  not  be,  for  that  she  certainly  would 
have  told  him. 

Sitting  there  and  musing  over  many  things,  his 
own  great  question  ever  and  again,  he  heard  a 
mower  whetting  his  scythe  somewhere  in  the  neigh 
bourhood.  Pitt  set  about  searching  for  the  unseen 
labourer,  and  presently  saw  the  man  who  was  cut 
ting  the  grass  in  an  adjoining  field.  Dismissing 
thought  for  action,  in  two  minutes  he  had  sprung 
over  the  fence  and  was  beside  the  man;  but  the 
mower  did  not  intermit  the  long  sweeps  of  his 
scythe,  until  he  heard  Pitt's  civil,  "  Good  morn 
ing."  Then  he  stopped,  straightened  himself  up 
and  looked  at  his  visiter;  looked  him  all  over. 

"  Good  mornin' — "  he  replied.  "  Guess  you're  the 
young  squoire,  aint  ye  ?  " 

If  Pitt's  appearance  had  been  less  supremely  neat 
and  faultless,  I  think  the  honest  worker  would  have 
offered  his  hand;  but  the  white  linen  summer  suit, 
the  polished  boots,  the  delicate  gloves,  were  too 
much  of  a  contrast  with  his  own  dusty  and  rough 
exterior.  It  was  no  feeling  of  inferiority,  be  it 
well  understood,  that  moved  him  to  this  bit  of 
self-denial ;  only  a  self-respecting  feeling  of  fitness. 
He  himself  would  not  have  wanted  to  touch  a  dusty 
hand  with  those  gloves  on  his  own.  But  he  spoke 
his  welcome. 


282  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Glad  to  see  ye  hum,  squoire.  When  did  ye 
come?  " 

"Last  night,  thank  you.  Whom  am  I  talking 
to  ?  I  have  been  so  long  away,  I  have  forgotten 
my  friends." 

"I  guess  there's  nobody  haint  forgotten  you, 
you'll  find,"  said  the  man,  wiping  his  scythe  blade 
with  a  wisp  of  grass;  needlessly,  for  he  had  just 
whetted  it ;  but  it  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  look 
at  the  figure  beside  him. 

"  More  than  I  deserve,"  said  Pitt.  "  But  I  seem 
not  to  find  some  of  my  old  friends.  Do  you  know 
where  is  the  family  that  used  to  live  here  ?  " 

"Gone  away,  I  guess." 

"I  see  they  have  gone  away;  but  where  have 
they  gone  ?  " 

"  Dunno,  no  more'n  the  dead,"  said  the  man,  be 
ginning  to  mow  again. 

"You  know  whom  I  am  speaking  of? — Colonel 
Gainsborough." 

"  I  know.     He's  gone — that's  all  I  kin  tell  ye." 

"  Who  takes  care  of  the  place  ?  " 

"The  place?  If  you  mean  the  house,  nobody 
takes  keer  of  it,  I  guess.  There  aint  nobody  in  it. 
The  land  hez  as  good  keer  as  it  ever  hed.  The 
Squoire,  he  sees  to  that." 

"  My  father,  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Who  else?  It  belongs  to  the  Squoire  now, 
and  he  takes  good  keer  o'  all  he  sees  to.  He 
bought  it,  ye  know,  when  the  cunnel  went  away," 
said  the  man,  stopping  work  and  resting  on  his 


A   DEBATE.  283 

scythe  to  look  at  Pitt  again.  "He'd  ha'  let  it,  I 
guess,  ef  he  could ;  but  you  see  there  aint  nobody 
that  wants  it.  The  folks  in  Seaforth  all  hez  their 
own  houses,  and  don't  want  nobody  else's.  There 
is  folks,  they  say,  as  'd  like  to  live  in  two  houses 
to  once,  ef  they  could  manage  it;  but  I  never  heerd 
o'  no  one  that  could." 

"  Do  you  know  at  all  why  the  colonel  went 
away?" 

"  Haint  an  idee.  Never  knowed  him  particular, 
ye  see,  and  so  never. heerd  tell.  The  cunnel  he 
warn't  a  sociable  man  by  no  means,  and  kep'  him 
self  mostly  shut  up.  I  think  it's  a  man's  loss;  but 
there's  different  opinions,  I  suppose,  on  that  pint. 
As  on  every  other!  Folks  du  say,  the  cunnel  warn't 
never  to  hum  in  Seaforth.  Anyway,  he  ain't  now." 

With  which  utterance  he  went  to  mowing  again, 
and  Pitt  after  a  courteous  "  Good  day,"  left  him. 

Where  could  they  be  gone  ?  And  why  should 
they  have  gone?  And  how  was  it  that  his  mother 
in  her  many  letters  had  never  said  a  word  about 
it?  Nay,  had  let  him  go  out  this  very  morning 
to  look  for  what  she  knew  he  would  not  find? 
And  his  father  had  bought  the  ground!  There 
was  something  here  to  be  inquired  into.  Mean 
while,  for  the  present,  he  must  do  his  thinking 
without  Esther. 

He  walked  on  and  on,  slowly,  under  the  shade 
of  the  great  trees,  along  the  empty,  grassy  street. 
He  had  plucked  one  or  two  shoots  from  the  honey 
suckles,  long  shoots  full  of  sweetness;  and  as  he 


284  A  RED  WALLFLOWER.' 

went  on  and  thought,  they  seemed  to  put  in  a  word 
now  and  then.  A  word  of  reminder,  not  distinct 
nor  logical,  but  with  a  blended  meaning  of  Esther 
and  sweetness  and  truth.  Not  her  sweetness  and 
truth,  but  that  which  she  testified  to,  and  which 
an  inner  voice  in  Pitt's  heart  kept  declaring  to  be 
genuine.  That  lured  him  and  beckoned  him  one 
way ;  and  the  other  way  sounded  voices  as  if  of  a 
thousand  sirens.  Pleasure,  pride,  distinction,  do 
minion,  applause,  achievement,  power,  and  ease. 
Various  forms  of  them,  various  colours,  started  up 
before  his  mind's  eye ;  vaguely  discerned,  as  to  in 
dividual  form,  but  every  one  of  them,  like  the 
picadors  in  a  bull  fight,  shaking  its  little  banner 
of  distraction  and  allurement.  Pitt  felt  the  con 
fusion  of  them,  and  at  the  same  time  was  more 
than  vaguely  conscious  on  the  other  side  of  a  cer 
tain  steady  white  light  which  attracted  towards 
another  goal.  He  walked  on  in  meditative  mus 
ing,  slowly  and  carelessly,  not  knowing  where  he 
was  going  nor  what  he  passed  on  the  way;  till 
he  had  walked  far.  And  then  he  suddenly  stopped, 
turned,  and  set  out  to  go  back  the  road  he  had 
come,  but  now  with  a  quick,  measured  steady  foot 
fall  which  gave  no  indication  of  a  vacillating  mind 
or  a  laboured  question. 

He  went  into  the  breakfast  room  when  he  got 
home,  which  was  also  the  common  sitting  room  and 
where  he  found,  as  he  expected,  his  mother  alone. 
She  loqked  anxious;  which  was  not  a  usual  thing 
with  Mrs.  Dallas. 


A  DEBATE.  285 

"  Pitt,  my  dear, — out  all  this  time  ?  Are  you 
not  very  hot  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know,  mother;  I  think  not.  I  have 
not  thought  about  the  heat,  I  believe." 

He  had  kept  the  honeysuckle  sprays  in  his  hand 
all  this  while,  and  he  now  went  forward  to  stick  them 
in  the  huge  jar  which  occupied  the  fireplace  and 
which  was  full  of  green  branches.  Turning  when 
he  had  done  this,  he  did  not  draw  up  a  chair,  but 
threw  himself  down  upon  the  rug  at  his  mother's 
feet,  so  that  he  could  lay  back  his  head  upon  her 
knees.  Presently  he  put  up  his  two  hands  behind 
him  and  found  her  hands,  which  he  gently  drew 
down  and  laid  on  each  side  of  his  head,  holding 
them  there  in  caressing  fashion.  Caresses  were 
never  the  order  of  the  day  in  this  family ;  rarely 
exchanged  even  between  mother  and  son,  who  yet 
were  devoted  faithfully  to  each  other.  The  action 
moved  Mrs.  Dallas  greatly;  she  bent  down  over 
him  and  kissed  her  son's  brow,  and  then  loosening 
one  of  her  hands  thrust  it  fondly  among  the  thick 
brown  wavy  locks  of  hair  that  were  such  a  pride 
to  her.  She  admired  him  unqualifiedly,  with  that 
blissful  delight  in  him  which  a  good  mother  gives 
to  her  son,  if  his  bodily  and  mental  properties  will 
anyway  allow  of  it.  Mrs.  Dallas's  pride  in  this  son 
had  always  been,  satisfied  and  unalloyed;  all  the 
more  now  was  the  chagrin  she  felt  at  the  first  jar  to 
this  satisfaction.  Her  face  shewed  both  feelings, 
the  pride  and  the  trouble,  but  for  a  time  she  kept 
silence.  She  was  burning  to  discuss  further  with 


286  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

him  the  subject  of  the  morning;  devoured  with 
restless  curiosity  as  to  how  it  could  ever  have  got 
such  a  lodgment  in  Pitt's  mind;  at  the  same  time 
she  did  not  know  how  to  touch  it  and  was  afraid 
of  touching  it  wrong.  Her  husband's  counsel,  not 
to  talk,  she  did  not  indeed  forget;  but  Mrs.  Dallas 
had  her  own  views  of  things  and  did  not  always 
take  her  husband's  advice.  She  was  not  minded 
to  follow  it  now,  but  she  was  uncertain  how  best 
to  begin.  Pitt  was  busy  with  his  own  thoughts. 

lt  I  have  invited  somebody  to  come  and  make 
your  holiday  pass  pleasantly,"  Mrs.  Dallas  said  at 
last,  beginning  far  away  from  the  burden  of  her 
thoughts. 

"  Somebody  ? — whom  ?  "  asked  Pitt  a  little  ea 
gerly,  but  without  changing  his  attitude. 

"Miss  Betty  Frere." 

"  Who  is  she,  that  she  should  put  her  hand  on 
my  holiday  ?  I  do  not  want  any  hands  but  yours, 
mother.  How  often  I  have  wanted  them  !  " 

"  But  Miss  Frere  will  make  your  time  pass  more 
pleasantly,  my  boy.  Miss  Frere  is  one  of  the  most 
admired  women  who  have  appeared  in  Washington 
this  year.  She  is  a  sort  of  cousin  of  your  father's, 
too;  distant,  but  enough  to  make  a  connection. 
You  will  see  for  yourself  what  she  is."  4 

"  Where  did  you  find  her  out? " 

"In  Washington,  last  winter." 

"And  she  is  coming?" 

"  She*  said  she  would  come.  I  asked  her  to  come 
and  help  me  make  the  time  pass  pleasantly  for  you." 


A  DEBATE.  287 

14  Which  means,  that  I  must  help  you  make  the 
time  pass  pleasantly  for  her." 

"  That  will  be  easy." 

"  I  don't  know ;  and  you  do  not  know.  When  is 
she  coming  ?  " 

"  In  a  few  days,  I  expect  her." 

"Young,  of  course.  Well,  mother,  I  really  do 
not  want  anybody  but  you;  but  we'll  do  the  best 
we  can." 

•"  She  is  handsome,  and  quick,  and  has  excellent 
manners.  She  would  have  made  a  good  match, 
last  winter,  at  once, — if  she  had  not  been  poor." 

"Are  men  such  cads  as  that  on  this  side  the 
water  too  ?  " 

"  Cads,  my  dear ! " 

"  I  call  that  being  cads.     Don't  you  ?  " 

"My  boy,  everybody  cannot  afford  to  marry  a 
poor  wife." 

"Anybody  that  has  two  hands  can.     Or  a  head." 

"  It  brings  trouble,  Pitt." 

"  Does  not  the  other  thing  bring  trouble  ?  It 
would  with  me !  If  I  knew  a  woman  had  married 
me  for  money,  or  if  I  knew  I  had  married  her  for 
money,  there  would  be  no  peace  in  my  house." 

Mrs.  Dallas  laughed  a  little.  "You  will  have 
no  need  to  do  the  latter  thing,"  she  said. 

"Mother,  nobody  has  any  need  to  do  it." 

"You,  at  any  rate,  can  please  yourself.     Only — " 

"Only  what?"  said  Pitt,  now  laughing  in  his  turn, 
and  twisting  his  head  round  to  look  up  into  her  face. 
"Go  on,  mother." 


288  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"I  am  sure  your  father  would  never  object  to  a 
girl  because  she  was  poor,  if  you  liked  her.  But 
there  are  other  things — " 

"  Well,  what  other  things  ?  " 

"Pitt,  a  woman  has  great  influence  over  her 
husband,  if  he  loves  her,  and  that  you  will  be  sure 
to  do  to  any  woman  whom  you  make  your  wife.  I 
should  not  like  to  have  you  marry  out  of  your  own 
church." 

Pitt's  head  went  round,  and  he  laughed  again. 

"  In  good  time  !  "  he  said.  "  I  assure  you,  mother, 
you  are  in  no  danger  yet." 

"  I  thought  this  morning,"  said  his  mother  hesi 
tating, — "  I  was  afraid,  from  what  you  said,  that 
some  Methodist,  or  some  other  Dissenter,  might 
have  got  hold  of  you." 

Pitt  was  silent.  The  word  struck  him,  and  jarred 
a  little.  Was  his  mother  not  grazing  the  truth  ? 
And  a  vague  notion  rose  in  his  mind,  without  act 
ually  taking  shape,  which  just  now  he  had  not 
time  to  attend  to,  but  which  cast  a  shadow,  like  a 
young  cloud.  He  was  silent,  and  his  mother  after 
a  little  pause  went  on. 

"Methodist  and  Dissenters  are  not  much  in  Mr. 
Strahan's  way,  I  am  sure;  and  you  would  hardly  be 
troubled  by  them  at  Oxford.  How  was  it,  Pitt  ? 
Where  did  you  get  these  new  notions?" 

"  Do  they  sound  like  Dissent,  mother?" 

"  I  do  not  know  what  they  sound  like.  Not  like 
you.  I  want  to  know  what  they  mean,  and  how 
you  came  by  them  ?  " 


A  DEBATE.  289 

He  did  not  immediately  answer. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  on  this  subject  a  good 
while,"  he  said  slowly, — "  a  good  while.  You  know, 
Mr.  Strahan  is  a  great  antiquary,  and  very  full  of 
knowledge  about  London.  He  has  taken  pleasure 
in  going  about  with  me,  and  instructing  me,  and  he 
is  capital  company;  but  at  last  I  learned  enough 
to  go  by  myself  sometimes,  without  him;  and  I.  used 
to  ramble  about  through  the  places  where  he  had 
taken  me,  to  review  and  examine  and  ponder  things 
at  my  leisure.  I  grew  very  fond  of  London.  It  is 
like  an  immense  illustrated  book  of  history. 

"  One  day  I  was  wandering  in  one  of  the  busy 
parts  of  the  city,  and  turned  aside  out  of  the  roar 
and  the  bustle  into  a  little  chapel,  lying  close  to 
the  roar  but  separate  from  it.  I  had  been  there  be 
fore,  and  knew  there  were  some  fine  marbles  in 
the  place;  one  especially,  that  I  wanted  to  see  again. 
I  was  alone  that  day,  and  could  take  my  time ;  and 
I  went  in.  It  is  the  tomb  of  some  old  dignitary  who 
lived  several  centuries  ago.  I  do  not  know  what  he 
was  in  life ;  but  in  death,  as  this  effigy  represents  him, 
it  is  something  beautiful  to  look  upon.  I  forget  at 
this  minute  the  name  of  the  sculptor ;  his  work  I  shall 
never  forget.  It  is  wonderfully  fine.  The  gravity, 
and  the  sweetness,  and  the  ineffable  repose  of  the 
figure,  are  beyond  praise.  I  stood  looking,  study 
ing,  thinking,  I  cannot  tell  for  how  long — or  rather 
feeling  than  thinking,  at  the  moment.  When  I 
left  the  chapel  and  came  out  again  into  the  glare 
and  the  rush  and  the  confusion,  then  I  began  to 


290  A  RED   WALLFLOWER. 

think,  mother.  I  went  off  to  another  quiet  place, 
by  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  sat  down  and  thought. 
I  can  hardly  tell  you  how.  The  image  of  that  in 
finite  repose  I  carried  with  me,  and  the  rush  of 
human  life  filled  the  streets  I  had  just  come  through 
behind  me,  and  I  looked  at  the  contrast  of  things. 
There,  for  ages  already,  that  quiet ;  here,  for  a  day 
or  two,  this  driving  and  struggling.  Even  suppose 
it  be  successful  struggling,  what  does  it  amount  to  ?  " 

"  It  amounts  to  a  good  deal  while  you  live,"  said 
Mrs.  Dallas. 

"And  after?—" 

"And  after  too.  A  man's  name,  if  he  has  struggled 
successfully,  is  held  in  remembrance;  in  honour." 

"  What  is  that  to  him  after  he  is  gone  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  you  would  not  advocate  a  lazy  life  ? 
a  life  without  effort  ?  " 

"No,  mother.  The  question  is,  what  shall  the 
effort  be  for  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dallas  was  in  the  greatest  perplexity  how  to 
carry  on  this  conversation.  She  looked  down  on 
the  figure  before  her, — Pitt  was  still  sitting  at  her 
feet,  holding  her  two  hands  on  either  side  of  his 
head ;  and  she  could  admire  at  her  leisure  the  well 
knit,  energetic  frame,  every  line  of  which  shewed 
power  and  life,  and  every  motion  of  which  indicated 
also  the  life  and  vigour  of  the  spirit  moving  it.  He 
was  the  very  man  to  fight  the  battle  of  life  with 
distinguished  success;  she  had  looked  forward  to 
his  doing  it,  counted  upon  it,  built  her  pride  upon 
it;  what  did  he  mean  now?  Was  all  that  power 


A   DEBATE.  291 

and  energy  and  ability  to  be  thrown  away  ?  Would 
he  decline  to  fill  the  place  in  the  world  which  she 
had  hoped  to  see  him  fill  and  which  he  could  so 
well  fill  ?  Young  people  do  have  foolish  fancies, 
and  they  pass  over ;  but  a  fancy  of  this  sort,  just  at 
Pitt's  age,  might  be  fatal.  She  was  glad  it  was  her 
self  and  not  his  father  who  was  his  confidant,  for 
Pitt  she  well  knew  was  one  neither  to  be  bullied 
nor  cajoled;  but  what  should  she  say  to  him  ? 

"  My  dear,  I  think  it  is  duty,"  she  ventured  at 
last.  "  Everybody  must  be  put  here  to  do  some 
thing." 

"What  is  he  put  here  to  do,  mamma?  That  is 
the  very  question." 

Pitt  was  not  excited;  he  shewed  no  heat;  he 
spoke  in  the  quiet,  calm  tones  of  a  person  long  fa 
miliar  with  the  thoughts  to  which  he  gave  utter 
ance,  indeed  alarmingly  suggestive  that  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  about  them. 

"  Pitt,  why  do  you  not  speak  to  a  clergyman  ? 
He  could  set  you  right  better  than  I  can." 

"I  have,  mamma." 

"  To  what  clergyman  ?  " 

"To  Dr.  Calcott,  of  Oxford;  and  to  Dr.  Plympton, 
the  rector  of  the  church  to  which  uncle  Strahan 
goes." 

"  What  did  they  say  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Calcott  said  I  had  been  studying  too  hard, 
and  wanted  a  little  distraction ;  he  thought  I  was 
morbid,  and  warned  me  against  possible  listening 
to  Methodists.  Said  I  was  a  good  fellow,  only  it 


292  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

was  a  mistake  to  try  to  be  too  good;  the  consequence 
would  be  a  break-down.  Whether  physical  or 
moral,  he  did  not  say;  I  was  left  to  apprehend 
both." 

"  That  is  very  much  as  I  think  myself,  only  not 
the  fear  of  break-downs.  I  see  no  signs  of  that  in 
you,  my  boy.  What  did  the  other,  Dr. — whom  did 
you  say  ? — what  did  he  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Plympton.  He  said  he  did  not  understand 
what  I  would  be  at." 

"  I  agree  with  him  too,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  laughing 
a  little.  Pitt  did  not  laugh. 

"  I  quoted  some  words  to  him  out  of  the  Bible,  and 
he  said  he  did  not  know  what  they  meant." 

"  I  should  think  he  ought  to  know." 

"  So  I  thought.  But  he  said  it  was  for  the  Church 
to  decide  what  they  meant." 

Mrs.  Dallas  was  greatly  at  a  loss,  and  growing 
more  and  more  uneasy.  Pitt  went  on  in  such  a 
quiet,  meditative  way,  not  asking  help  of  her,  and 
she  fancied,  not  intending  to  ask  it  of  anybody. 
Suddenly  however  he  lifted  his  head  and  turned 
himself  far  enough  round  to  enable  him  to  look  in 
her  face. 

"Mother,"  said  he,  "what  do  you  think  those 
words  mean  in  one  of  the  psalms, — 'Thou  hast 
made  me  exceeding  glad  with  thy  countenance  '"  ? 

"  Are  they  in  the  psalms  ?     I  do  not  know." 

"You  have  read  them  a  thousand  times.  In  the 
psalter  translation  the  wording  is  a  little  different, 
but  it  comes  to  the  same  thing." 


A  DEBATE.  293 

"  I  never  knew  what  they  meant,  my  boy.  There 
are  a  great  many  things  in  the  Bible  that  we  can 
not  understand." 

"But  is  this  one  of  them?  'Exceeding  glad 
— with  thy  countenance.'  David  knew  what  he 
meant." 

"  The  psalmist  was  inspired.  Of  course  he  un 
derstood  a  great  many  things  which  we  do  not." 

"  We  ought  to  understand  some  things  that  he 
did  not,  I  should  think.  But  this  is  a  bit  of  per 
sonal  experience — not  abstruse  teaching.  David 
was  4  exceeding  glad ' — and  what  made  him  glad  ? 
that  I  want  to  know." 

Pitt's  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  innocent  let 
ter  he  had  once  received,  in  which  a  young  and 
unlearned  girl  had  given  precisely  the  same  testi 
mony  as  the  inspired  royal  singer.  Precisely  the 
same.  And  surely  wkat  Esther  had  found,  another 
could  find,  and  he  might  find.  But  while  he  was 
musing  Mrs.  Dallas  grew  more  and  more  uneasy. 
She  knew  better  than  to  try  the  force  of  persuasion 
upon  her  son.  It  would  not  avail ;  and  Mrs.  Dallas 
was  a  proud  woman,  too  proud  to  ask  what  would 
not  be  granted,  or  to  resist  forcefully  what  she 
might  not  resist  successfully.  She  never  withstood 
her  husband's  plans  or  asked  him  to  change  them, 
except  in  cases  when  she  knew  her  opposition 
could  be  made  effective ;  so  it  did  not  at  all  follow 
that  she  was  pleased  where  she  made  no  effort  to 
hinder.  It  was  the  same  in  the  case  of  her  son, 
though  rarely  proved  until  now.  In  the  conscious- 


294  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

ness  of  her  want  of  power  she  was  tempted  to  be 
a  little  vexed. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  what  you  say  sounds  to 
me  very  like  Methodist  talk !  They  say,  the  Meth 
odists  are  spreading  dreadfully." 

Pitt  was  silent,  and  then  made  a  departure. 

"  How  often  I  have  wanted  just  the  touch  of  these 
hands ! "  he  said,  giving  those  he  held  a  little  squeeze. 
"  Mother,  there  is  nothing  in  all  the  world  like  them.' 


i 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

DISAPPOINTMENT. 

T  was  not  till  the  little  family  were  seated  at  the 
dinner  table,  that  Pitt  alluded  to  the  object  of 
his  morning  ramble. 

"  I  went  to  see  Col.  Gainsborough  this  morning," 
he  began ;  "  and  to  my  astonishment  found  the  house 
shut  up.  What  has  become  of  him  ?  " 

"Gone  away—"  said  his  father  shortly. 

"Yes,  that  is  plain;  but  where  is  he  gone  to?" 

"New  York." 

"  New  York !— What  took  him  away  ?  " 

"  I  believe  a  desire  to  put  his  daughter  at  school. 
A  very  sensible  desire." 

"To  New  York!"— Pitt  repeated.  "Why  did 
you  never  mention  it,  mamma  ?  " 

"  It  never  occurred  to  me  to  mention  it.  I  did 
not  suppose  that  the  matter  was  of  any  great  inter 
est  to  you." 

Mrs.  Dallas  had  said  just  a  word  too  much.  Her 
last  sentence  set  Pitt  to  thinking. 

"How  long  have  they  been  gone?"  he  asked 

after  a  short  pause. 

(295) 


296  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Not  long,"  said  Mr.  Dallas  carelessly.  "  A  few 
months,  I  believe." 

"A  man  told  me  you  had  bought  the  place?" 

"  Yes;  it  suited  me  to  have  it.  The  land  is  good, 
what  there  is  of  it." 

"  But  the  house  stands  empty.  What  will  you 
do  with  it?" 

"  Let  it — as  soon  as  anybody  wants  it." 

"  Not  much  prospect  of  that,  is  there  ?  " 

"Not  just  now, — "  Mr.  Dallas  said  drily. 

There  was  a  little  pause  again,  and  then  Pitt 
asked, 

"Have  you  Col.  Gainsborough's  address,  sir?" 

"  No." 

"I  suppose  they  have  it  at  the  post  office." 

"  They  have  not.  Col.  Gainsborough  was  to  have 
sent  me  his  address,  when  he  knew  himself  what 
it  would  be;  but  he  has  never  done  so." 

"  Is  he  living  in  the  city,  or  out  of  it." 

"  I  have  explained  to  you  why  I  am  unable  to 
answer  that  question." 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  know,  Pitt  ?  "  his  mother 
imprudently  asked. 

"Because  I  have  got  to  look  them  up,  mother; 
and  knowing  whereabouts  they  are  would  be  rather 
a  help,  you  see." 

"  You  have  not  got  to  look  them  up !  "  said  his 
father  gruffly.  "What  business  is  it  of  yours? 
If  they  were  here,  it  would  be  all  very  well  for 
you  to  pay  your  respects  to  the  colonel ;  it  would 
be  due;  but  as  it  is,  there  is  no  obligation." 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  297 

"No  obligation  of  civility.  There  is  another, 
however." 

"  What,  then  ?  " 

"  Of  friendship,  sir." 

"Nonsense.  Friendship  ought  to  keep  you  at 
home.  There  is  no  friendship  like  that  of  a  man's 
father  and  mother.  Do  you  know  what  a  piece  of 
time  it  would  take,  for  you  to  go  to  New  York  to 
look  up  a  man  who  lives  you  do  not  know  where  ? 
— what  a  piece  of  your  vacation  ?  " 

"More  than  I  like  to  think  of,"  said  Pitt,  "but 
it  will  have  to  be  done." 

"  It  will  take  you  two  days  to  get  there,  and  two 
more  days  to  get  back,  merely  for  the  journey; 
and  how  many  do  you  want  to  spend  in  New  York?" 

"Must  have  two  or  three,  at  least.  It  will 
swallow  up  a  week." 

"  Out  of  your  little  vacation  ! "  said  his  mother 
reproachfully.  She  was  angry  and  hurt,  as  near 
tears  as  she  often  came ;  but  Mrs.  Dallas  was  not 
wont  to  shew  her  discomfiture  in  that  way. 

"Yes,  mother,  I  am  very  sorry." 

"  Why  do  you  care  about  seeing  them  ?  care  so 
much,  I  mean,"  his  father  inquired,  with  a  keen 
side  glance  at  his  son. 

"I  have  made  a  promise,  sir.  I  am  bound  to 
keep  it." 

"What  promise?"  both  parents  demanded  at 
once. 

"To  look  after  the  daughter,  in  case  of  the 
father's  death." 


298  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"But  he  is  not  dead.  He  is  well  enough;  as 
likely  to  live  as  I  am." 

"How  can  I  be  sure  of  that?  You  have  not 
heard  from  him  for  months,  you  say." 

"  I  should  have  heard,  if  anything  had  happened 
to  him." 

"That  is  not  certain,  either,"  said  Pitt,  thinking 
that  Esther's  applying  to  his  father  and  mother  in 
case  of  distress  was  more  than  doubtful. 

"  How  can  you  look  after  the  daughter,  in  the 
event  of  her  father's  death  ?  You  are  not  the  per 
son  to  do  it,"  said  his  mother. 

"  I  am  the  person  who  have  promised  to  do  it," 
said  Pitt  quietly.  "Never  mind,  mother;  you  see 
I  must  go ;  and  the  sooner  the  better.  I  will  take 
the  stage  to-morrow  morning." 

"You  might  wait  and  try  first  what  a  letter 
might  do,"  suggested  his  father. 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  you  remember  Col.  Gainsborough 
had  very  little  to  do  with  the  post  office.  He  never 
received  letters,  and  he  had  ceased  taking  the 
London  Times.  My  letter  might  lie  weeks  un 
claimed.  I  must  go  myself." 

And  he  went,  and  staid  a  week  away.  It  was  a 
busy  week ;  at  least  the  days  in  the  city  were  busily 
filled.  Pitt  inquired  at  the  Post  Office;  but  as  he 
more  than  half  expected,  nobody  knew  anything 
of  Col.  Gainsborough's  address.  One  official  had 
an  impression  he  had  heard  the  name;  that  was 
all.  Pitt  beleaguered  the  Post  Office;  that  is,  he 
sat  down  before  it,  figuratively,  for  really  he  sat 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  299 

down  in  it;  and  let  nobody  go  out  or  come 
in  without  his  knowledge.  It  availed  nothing. 
Either  Christopher  did  not  at  all  make  his  appear 
ance  at  the  Post  Office  during  those  days;  or  he 
came  at  some  moment  when  Pitt  was  gone  to  get 
a  bit  of  luncheon;  if  he  came,  a  stupid 'clerk  did 
not  heed  him  or  a  busy  clerk  overlooked  him ;  all 
that  is  certain  is,  that  Pitt  saw  and  heard  nothing 
which  led  to  the  object  of  his  quest.  He  made 
inquiries  elsewhere,  wherever  he  could  think  it 
might  be  useful ;  but  the  end  was,  he  heard  noth 
ing.  He  staid  three  days;  he  could  stay  no  longer, 
for  his  holiday  was  very  exactly  and  narrowly  meas 
ured  out,  and  he  felt  it  not  right  to  take  any  more 
of  it  from  his  father  and  mother. 

The  rest  of  the  time  they  had  him  wholly  to 
themselves;  for  Miss  Frere  was  hindered  by  some 
domestic  event  from  keeping  her  promise  to  Mrs. 
Dallas.  She  did  not  come.  Pitt  was  glad  of  it; 
and  seeing  they  were  now  free  from  danger  of 
Esther,  his  father  and  mother  were  glad  of  it  too. 
The  days  were  untroubled  by  either  fear  or  anxiety, 
while  their  son  made  the  sunshine  of  the  house  for 
them ;  and  when  he  went  away  he  left  them  with 
out  a  wish  concerning  him,  but  that  they  were 
going  too.  For  it  was  to  be  another  two  years 
before  he  would  come  again. 

The  record  of  those  same  summer  months  in  the 
house  on  the  bank  of  the  Hudson,  was  somewhat 
different.  Esther  had  her  vacation  too,  which  gave 
her  opportunity  to  finish  everything  in  the  arrange- 


300  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

ments  at  home  for  which  time  had  hitherto  been 
lacking.  The  girl  went  softly  round  the  house, 
putting  a  touch  of  grace  and  prettiness  upon  every 
room.  It  excited  Mrs.  Barker's  honest  admiration. 
Here  it  was  a  curtain;  there  it  was  a  set  of  toilet 
furniture;  in  another  place  a  fresh  chintz  cover; 
in  a  fourth,  a  rug  that  matched  the  carpet  and  hid 
an  ugly  darn  in  it.  Esther  made  all  these  things 
and  did  all  these  things  herself;  they  cost  her 
father  nothing,  or  next  to  nothing,  and  they  did 
not  even  ask  for  Mrs.  Barker's  time ;  and  they  were 
little  things;  but  the  effect  of  them  was  not  so. 
They  gave  the  house  that  finished,  comfortable, 
home-like  air,  which  nothing  does  give  but  the 
graceful  touch  of  a  woman's  fingers.  Mrs.  Barker 
admired;  the  colonel  did  not  see  what  was  done; 
but  Esther  did  not  work  for  admiration.  She  was 
satisfying  the  demand  of  her  own  nature,  which 
in  all  things  she  had  to  do  with  called  for  finish, 
fitness  and  grace ;  her  fingers  were  charmed  fingers, 
because  the  soul  that  governed  them  had  itself  such 
a  charm,  and  worked  by  its  own  standard;  as  a 
honey  bee  makes  her  cell.  Indeed  the  simile  of 
the  honey  bee  would  fit  in  more  points  than  one ; 
for  the  cell  of  the  little  winged  worker  is  not  fuller 
of  sweetness  than  the  girl  made  all  her  own  par 
ticular  domicile.  If  the  whole,  truth  must  be  told, 
however,  there  was  another  thought  stirring  in 
her,  as  she  hung  her  curtains  and  laid  her  rugs; 
a  half  recognized  thought,  which  gave  a  zest  to 
every  additional  touch  of  comfort  or  prettiness 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  301 

which  she  bestowed  on  the  house.  She  thought 
Pitt  would  be  there ;  and  she  wanted  the  impression 
made  upon  him  to  be  the  pleasantest  possible.  He 
would  surely  be  there;  he  was  coming  home;  he 
would  never  let  the  vacation  go  by  without  trying 
to  find  his  old  friends.  It  was  a  constant  spring 
of  pleasure  to  Esther,  that  secret  hope.  She  said 
nothing  about  it;  her  father,  she  knew,  did  not 
care  so  much  for  Pitt  Dallas  as  she  did ;  but  privately 
she  counted  the  days  and  measured  the  time,  and 
went  into  countless  calculations  for  which  she  pos 
sessed  no  sufficient  data.  She  knew  that,  yet  she 
could  not  help  calculating.  The  whole  summer  was 
sweetened  and  enlivened  by  these  calculations,  al 
though  indeed  they  were  a  little  like  some  of  those 
sweets  which  bite  the  tongue. 

But  the  summer  went  by,  as  we  know,  and  noth 
ing  was  seen  of  the  expected  visiter.  September 
came,  and  Esther  almost  counted  the  hours,  waking 
up  in  the  morning  with  a  beat  of  the  heart,  think 
ing,  to-day  he  may  come! — and  lying  down  at  night 
with  a  despairing  sense  that  the  time  was  slipping 
away,  and  her  only  consolation  that  there  was  some 
yet  left.  She  said  nothing  about  it;  she  watched 
the  days  of  the  vacation  all  out;  and  went  to  school 
again  towards  the  end  of  the  month  with  a  heart 
very  disappointed,  and  troubled  besides  by  that 
feeling  of  unknown  and  therefore  unreachable  hin 
drances,  which  is  so  tormenting.  Something  the  mat 
ter,  and  you  do  not  know  what;  and  therefore  you 
cannot  act  to  mend  matters.  Esther  was  sadly  dis- 


302  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

appointed.  Three  years  now,  and  she  had  grown 
and  lie  had  changed;  must  have  changed;  and  if 
the  old  friendship  were  at  all  to  be  preserved  the 
friends  ought  to  see  each  other,  before  the  gap 
grew  too  wide,  and  before  too  many  things  rushed 
in  to  fill  it  which  might  work  separation  and  not 
union.  Esther's  feelings  were  of  the  most  innocent 
and  childlike,  but  very  warm.  Pitt  had  been  very 
good  to  her;  he  had  been  like  an  elder  brother; 
and  in  that  light  she  remembered  him  and  wished 
for  him.  The  fact  that  she  was  a  child  no  longer 
did  not  change  all  this.  Esther  had  lived  alone 
with  her  father,  and  kept  her  simplicity. 

Going  to  school  might  have  damaged  the  sim 
plicity,  but  somehow  it  did  not.  Several  reasons 
prevented.  For  one  thing,  she  made  no  intimate 
friends.  She  was  kind  to  everybody,  nobody  was 
taken  into  her  confidence.  Her  nature  was  apart 
from  theirs;  one  of  those  rare  and  few  whose  fate 
it  is  for  the  most  part  to  stand  alone  in  the  world; 
too  fine  for  the  coarseness,  too  delicate  for  the 
rudeness,  too  noble  for  the  pettiness  of  those  around 
them,  even  though  they  be  not  more  coarse  or  rude 
or  small-minded  than  the  generality  of  mankind. 
Sympathy  is  broken,  and  full  communion  impossi 
ble.  It  is  the  penalty  of  eminence,  to  put  its  pos 
sessor  apart.  I  have  seen  a  lily  stand  so  in  a 
bed  of  other  flowers ;  a  perfect  specimen ;  in  form 
and  colouring  and  grace  of  carriage  distinguished 
by  a  faultless  beauty;  carrying  its  elegant  head  a 
little  bent,  modest,  but  yet  lofty  above  all  the  rest 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  303 

of  the  flower  bed.  Not  with  the  loftiness  of  inches 
however,  for  it  was  of  lower  stature  than  many 
around  it;  the  elevation  of  which  I  speak  was 
moral  and  spiritual.  And  so  it  was  alone.  The 
rest  of  the  flowers  were  more  or  less  fellows ;  this 
one  in  its  apart  elegance  owned  no  social  commun 
ion  with  them.  Esther  was  a  little  like  that  among 
her  school  friends;  and  though  invariably  gracious 
and  pleasant  in  her  manners  was  instinctively  felt 
to  be  different  from  the  rest.  Only,  Esther  was  a 
white  lily ;  the  one  I  tried  to  describe,  or  did  not 
try  to  describe,  was  a  red  one. 

Besides  this  element  of  separateness,  Esther  was 
very  much  absorbed  in  her  work.  Not  seeking,  like 
most  of  the  others,  to  pass  a  good  examination ;  but 
studying  in  the  love  of  learning,  and  with  a  far-off 
ideal  of  attainment  in  her  mind  with  which  she 
hoped  one  day  to  meet  Pitt,  and  satisfy  if  not  equal 
him.  I  think  she  hardly  knew  this  motive  at  work ; 
however  it  was  at  work,  and  a  powerful  motive  too. 

And  lastly,  Esther  was  a  "favourite."  No  help 
for  it ;  she  was  certainly  a  favourite,  the  girls  pro 
nounced;  and  some  of  them  had  the  candour  to 
add,  that  they  did  not  see  how  she  could  help  it, 
or  how  Miss  Fairbairn  could  help  it  either. 

"  Girls,  she  has  every  right  to  be  a  favourite," 
one  of  them  set  forth. 

"  Nobody  has  a  right  to  be  a  favourite ! "  was 
the  counter  cry. 

"  But  think, — she  never  does  anything  wrong." 

"Stupid!" 


304  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Well,  she  never  breaks  rules,  does  she  ?  " 

"No." 

"And  she  always  has  her  lessons  perfect  as  per 
fect  can  be." 

"  So  do  some  other  people." 

"And  her  drawings  are  capital." 

"That's  her  nature;  she  has  a  talent  for  drawing; 
she  cannot  help  it.  She  just  cannot  help  it,  Sarah 
Simpson.  That's  no  credit." 

"  Then  she  is  the  best  Bible  scholar  in  the  house, 
except  Miss  Fairbairn  herself." 

"  Ah  !  There  you've  got  it.  That's  just  it.  She 
is  one  of  Miss  Fairbairn's  kind.  But  everybody 
can't  be  like  that !  "  cried  the  objector.  "  I  for  in 
stance.  I  don't  care  so  much  for  the  Bible,  you 
see;  and  you  don't,  if  you'll  tell  the  truth;  and  most 
of  us  don't.  It's  an  awful  bore,  that's  what  it  is, 
all  this  eternal  Bible  work !  and  I  don't  think  it's  fair. 
It  isn't  what  I  came  here  for,  I  know.  My  father 
didn't  think  he  was  sending  me  to  a  Sunday  school." 

"  Miss  Fairbairn  takes  care  you  should  learn 
something  else  besides  Bible,  Belle  Linders;  to  do 
her  justice." 

"Well,  she's  like  all  the  rest;  she  has  favourites; 
and  Esther  Gainsborough  is  one  of  'em ;  and  there 
ought  to  be  no  favourites.  I  tell  you,  she  puts  me 
out,  that's  what  she  does.  If  I  am  sent  out  of  the 
room  on  an  errand,  I  am  sure  to  hit  my  foot 
against  something,  just  because  she  never  stumbles; 
and  the  door  falls  out  of  my  hand  and  makes  a 
noise,  just  because  I  am  thinking  how  it  behaves 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  305 

for  her.  She  just  puts  me  out,  I  give  you  my 
word.  It  confuses  me  in  my  recitations,  to  know 
that  she  has  the  answer  ready,  if  I  miss ;  and  as  for 
drawing,  it's  no  use  to  try,  because  she  will  be  sure 
to  do  it  better.  There  ought  to  be  no  such  thing 
as  favourites ! " 

There  was  some  laughter  at  this  harangue,  but  no 
contradiction  of  its  statements.  Perhaps  Esther 
was  more  highly  gifted  than  any  of  her  fellows; 
beyond  question  she  worked  harder.  She  had  mo 
tives  that  wrought  upon  none  of  them;  the  idea 
of  equalling  or  at  least  of  satisfying  Pitt,  and  the 
feeling  that  her  father  was  sacrificing  a  great  deal 
for  her  sake,  and  that  she  must  do  her  very  utmost 
by  way  of  honouring  and  rewarding  his  kindness. 
Besides  still  another  and  loftier  feeling,  that  she  was 
the  Lord's  servant,  and  that  less  than  the  very  best 
she  could  do  was  not  service  good  enough  for  him. 

"  Papa,"  she  said  one  evening  in  October,  "  don't 
you  think  Pitt  must  have  come  and  gone  before 
now?" 

"  William  Dallas  ? — If  he  has  come,  he  has  gone, 
certainly." 

"  Papa,  do  you  think  he  can  have  come  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  he  has  not  been  to  see  us." 

"My  dear,  that  is  nothing;  there  is  no  special 
reason  why  he  should  come  to  see  us." 

"  0  papa !  " — cried  Esther,  dismayed. 

"  My  dear,  you  have  put  too  much  water  in  my 
tea;  I  wish  you  would  think  what  you  are  about." 


306  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Now  Esther  had  thought  what  she  was  about, 
and  the  tea  was  as  nearly  as  possible  just  as  usual. 

"  Shall  I  mend  it,  papa  ?  " 

"  You  cannot  mend  it.  Tea  must  be  made  right 
at  first,  if  it  is  ever  to  be  right.  And  if  it  is  not 
right,  it  is  not  fit  to  be  drunk." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  papa.  I  will  try  and  have  it 
perfect  next  time." 

It  was  plain  her  father  did  not  share  her  anxiety 
about  Pitt;  he  cared  nothing  about  the  matter, 
whether  he  came  or  no.  He  did  not  think  of  it. 
And  Esther  had  been  thinking  of  it  every  day  for 
months,  and  many  times  a  day.  She  was  hurt,  and 
it  made  her  feel  alone.  Esther  had  that  feeling 
rather  often,  for  a  girl  of  her  age  and  sound  health 
in  every  respect,  bodily  and  mental.  The  feeling 
was  quite  in  accordance  with  the  facts  of  the  case ; 
only  many  girls  at  seventeen  would  not  have  found 
it  out.  She  was  in  school  and  in  the  midst  of 
numbers  for  five  and  a  half  days  in  the  week;  yet 
even  there,  as  has  been  explained,  she  was  in  a 
degree  solitary;  and  both  in  school  and  at  home 
Esther  knew  the  fact.  At  home  the  loneliness  was 
intensified.  Col.  Gainsborough  was  always  busy 
with  his  books;  even  at  meal  times  hardly  came 
out  of  them ;  and  never,  either  at  Seaforth  or  here, 
had  made  himself  the  companion  of  his  daughter. 
He  desired  to  know  how  she  stood  in  her  school, 
and  kept  himself  informed  of  what  she  was  doing; 
what  she  might  be  feeling  he  never  inquired.  It 
was  all  right,  he  thought;  everything  was  going 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  307 

right;  except  that  he  was  such  an  invalid  and  so 
left  to  himself.  If  asked  by  whom  he  was  left  to 
himself,  he  would  have  said,  by  his  family  and  his 
country  and  the  world  generally.  His  family  and 
his  country  might  probably  have  charged  that  the 
neglect  was  mutual,  and  the  world  at  large  could 
hardly  be  blamed  for  not  taking  up  the  old  soldier 
whom  it  did  not  know,  and  making  much  of  him. 
The  care  which  was  failing  from  all  three  he  got 
from  his  daughter  in  full  measure,  but  she  got 
little  from  him.  It  was  not  strange  that  her 
thoughts  went  fondly  to  Pitt,  who  had  taken  care 
of  her  and  helped  her  and  been  good  to  her.  Was 
it  all  over  ?  and  no  more  such  kindly  ministry  and 
delightful  sympathy  to  be  ever  hoped  for  any  more  ? 
Had  Pitt  forgotten  her  ?  It  gave  Esther  pain,  that 
nobody  guessed,  to  be  obliged  to  moot  this  ques 
tion;  and  it  busied  her  a  good  deal.  Sometimes 
her  thoughts  went  longingly  back  beyond  Pitt 
Dallas,  to  another  face  that  had  always  been  lov 
ing  to  her;  soft  eyes  and  a  tender  hand  that  were 
ever  sure  to  bring  sympathy  and  help.  She  could 
not  much  bear  to  think  of  it.  That  was  all  gone, 
and  could  not  be  called  back  again ;  was  her  one 
other  earthly  friend  gone  too  ?  Pitt  had  been  so 
good  to  her!  and  such  a  delightful  teacher  and 
helper  and  confidant.  She  thought  it  strange  that 
her  father  did  not  miss  him ;  but  after  the  one  great 
loss  of  his  life,  Col.  Gainsborough  missed  nobody 
any  more. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A    HEAD    OF    LETTUCE. 

ONE  afternoon  in  the  end  of  October,  Esther  who 
had  just  come  home  from  school  was  laid  hold 
of  by  Mrs.  Barker  with  a  face  of  grave  calculation. 

"Miss  Esther,  will  ye  approve  that  I  send  Chris 
topher  over  to  that  market  woman's,  to  get  a  head 
o'  lettuce  for  the  colonel's  supper? — there's  nought 
in  the  house  but  a  bit  o'  cold  green  tongue,  savin', 
of  course,  the  morrow's  dinner.  I  thought  he  might 
fancy  a  salad." 

"  Tongue  ?  "  said  Esther.  "  Haven't  you  a  quail, 
or  a  sweetbread,  or  something  of  that  sort  ?  " 

"I  haven't  it,  Miss  Esther;  and  that's  the  truth." 

"  Forgotten  ?  "  said  Esther  smiling. 

"  Mum,  I  couldn't  forget  the  likes  o'  that,"  Barker 
said  solemnly.  "  Which  I  mean,  as  I  haven't  that 
to  own  up  to.  No,  mum,  I  didn't  forget." 

"  What's  the  matter,  then  ?  some  carelessness  of 
Christopher's.  Yes,  have  a  salad ;  that  will  do  very 
well." 

"  Then,  mum,"  said  Barker  still  more  constrain 
edly,  "  could  you  perhaps  let  me  have  a  sixpence  ? 
(308) 


A  HEAD  OF  LETTUCE.          •    309 

I  don't  like  to  send  and  ask  a  stranger  like  that  to 
wait  for  what's  no  more'n  twopence  at  home." 

"Wait?"  repeated  Esther.  "Didn't  papa  give 
you  money  for  the  housekeeping  this  week  ?  " 

"Miss  Esther,  he  did; — but — I  haven't  a  cent." 

"Why?  He  did  not  give  you  as  much  as 
usual  ?  " 

The  housekeeper  hesitated,  with  a  troubled  face. 

"  Miss  Esther,  he  did  give  me  as  much  as  usual, 
I  would  say,  as  much  as  he  uses  to  give  me  no \v-a- 
days;  but  that  ain't  the  old  sum,  and  it  ain't  pos 
sible  to  do  the  same  things  wi'  it."  And  Mrs. 
Barker  looked  anxiously  and  doubtfully  at  her 
young  mistress.  "  I  wouldn't  like  to  tell  ye,  mum ; 
but  in  course  ye  must  know,  or  ye'd  maybe  be 
doubtful  o'  me." 

"Of  course  I  should  know!"  repeated  Esther. 
'Papa  must  have  forgotten.  I  will  see  about  it. 
Give  me  a  basket,  Barker,  and  I  will  go  over  to  the 
garden  myself  and  get  a  head  of  lettuce, — now, 
before  I  take  my  things  off.  I  would  like  to  go." 

Seeing  that  she  spoke  truth,  Mrs.  Barker's  scru 
ples  gave  way.  She  furnished  the  basket,  and 
Esther  set  forth.  There  was  but  a  field  or  two  to 
cross,  intervening  between  her  own  ground  and 
the  slopes  where  the  beds  of  the  market  garden 
lay  trim  and  neat  in  the  sun.  Or  rather,  to-day, 
in  the  warm,  hazy,  soft  October  light;  the  sun's 
rays  could  not  rightly  get  through  the  haze.  It 
was  one  of  the  delicious  times  of  October  weather, 
which  the  unlearned  are  wont  to  call  Indian  sum- 


310  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

mer,  but  which  is  not  that,  and  differs  from  it  es 
sentially.  The  glory  of  the  Indian  summer  is 
wholly  ethereal;  it  belongs  to  the  light  and  the 
air;  and  is  a  striking  image  and  eloquent  testi 
mony  of  how  far  spirit  can  overmaster  matter. 
The  earth  is  brown,  the  trees  are  bare ;  the  drapery 
and  the  colours  of  summer  are  all  gone;  and  then 
comes  the  Indian  summer,  and  makes  one  forget 
that  the  foregoing  summer  had  its  glories  at  all,  so 
much  greater  is  the  glory  now.  There  is  no  sense 
of  bareness  any  longer,  and  no  missing  of  gay 
tints,  nor  of  the  song  of  birds,  nor  of  anything  else 
in  which  June  revelled  and  August  shewed  its 
rich  maturity;  only  the  light  and  the  air,  filling 
the  world  with  such  unearthly  loveliness  that  the 
looker-on  holds  his  breath,  and  the  splendour  of 
June  is  forgotten.  This  October  day  was  not  after 
such  a  fashion;  it  was  steeped  in  colour.  Trees 
near  at  hand  shewed  yellow  and  purple  and  red; 
the  distant  Jersey  shore  was  a  strip  of  warm  sun 
burnt  tints,  merged  into  one;  over  the  river  lay  a 
sunny  haze  that  was  as  it  were  threaded  with  gold ; 
as  if  the  sun  had  gone  to  sleep  there  and  was  in  a 
dream;  and  mosses,  and  bushes,  and  lingering  as 
ters  and  golden  rod,  on  rocks  or  at  the  edges  of 
the  fields  near  at  hand,  gave  the  eye  a  welcome 
wherever  it  turned.  Not  a  breath  of  air  was  stir 
ring;  the  landscape  rested  under  a  spell  of  peace. 
Esther  walked  slowly,  every  step  was  so  full  of 
pleasure.  The  steps  were  few  however,  and  her 
pleasure  was  mingled  with  an  odd  questioning  in 


A  HEAD  OF  LETTUCE.  311 

her  mind,  what  all  this  about  money  could  mean? 
A  little  footpath  worn  in  the  grass  led  her  over 
the  intervening  fields  to  Mrs.  Blumenfeld's  garden. 
Christopher  must  have  worn  that  path,  going  and 
coming ;  for  the  family  had  been  supplied  through 
the  summer  with  milk  from  the  dairy  of  the  gar 
dener's  wife.  Mrs.  Blumenfeld  was  out  among  her 
beds  of  vegetables,  Esther  saw  as  she  drew  near; 
she  climbed  over  the  fence  and  in  a  few  minutes 
was  beside  her. 

"  Wall,  ef  you  aint  what  I  call  a  stranger ! "  said 
the  woman  good-humouredly.  "I  don't  see  you, 
no  more'n  the  angels !  for  all  you're  so  near ! " 

"I  am  going  to  school,  Mrs.  Blumenfeld;  and 
that  keeps  me  away  from  home,  almost  all  the 
week.  How  do  you  do  ?  " 

"Dear  me,  I  dursn't  be  anything  but  well,"  said 
the  gardener's  widow.  "Ef  I  aint  at  both  ends  o' 
everything,  there  aint  no  middle  to  'em.  There 
aint  a  soul  to  be  trusted,  'thout  it's  yourself.  It's 
kind  o'  tedious.  I  get  to  the  wrong  end  o'  my 
patience  once  in  a  while.  Jest  look  at  them  rosp- 
berry  canes !  and  I  set  a  man  only  yesterday  to  tie 
'em  up.  They  aint  done  nohow  !  " 

"But  your  garden  always  looks  beautiful." 

"Kin  you  see  it  from  your  windows?  I  want 
to  know !  " 

"Not  very  much  of  it;  but  it  always  looks  so 
bright  and  trim.  It  does  now." 

"Wall,  you  see,"  said  Mrs.  Blumenfeld,  "a  gar 
den  aint  nothin'  ef  it  aint  in  order.  I  do  despise 


312  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

shiftless   ways!      Now  jes'    see    them    rospberry 
canes ! " 

"  What's  the  matter  with  them  ?  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  you'd  know  ef  I  shewed  you," 
said  the  good  woman,  checking  herself  with  a  half 
laugh ;  "  and  there  aint  no  need,  as  I  know,  why  I 
should  bother  you  with  my  bothers.  But  it's  hu 
man  natur,  aint  it  ?  " 

"  Is  what  human  nature  ?  " 

"Jes'  that  same.  Or  don't  you  never  want  to 
tell  no  one  your  troubles  ?  Maybe  you  don't  hev 
none  ?  "  she  added  with  an  inquiring  look  into  Es 
ther's  face.  "Young  folks  ! — the  time  for  trouble 
haint  come  yet." 

"0  yes,"  said  Esther.  "I  have  known  what 
trouble  is." 

"  Hev  ye  ?  "  said  the  woman  with  another  inquis 
itive  look  into  the  fair  face.  "  Mebbe.  There  is 
folks  that  don't  shew  what  they  goes  through.  I 
guess  I'm  one  o'  that  sort  myself." 

"  Are  you  ?  "  said  Esther  smiling.  "  Certainly, 
to  look  at  you,  I  never  should  think  your  life  had 
been  very  crooked  or  very  rough.  You  always 
seem  bright  and  peaceful." 

It  was  true.  Mrs.  Blumenfeld  had  a  quiet  steady 
way  with  her,  and  both  face  and  voice  partook  of 
the  same  calm;  though  energy  and  activity  were 
at  the  same  time  as  plainly  manifested  in  every 
word  and  movement.  Esther  looked  at  her  now, 
as  she  went  among  her  beds,  stooping  here  and 
there  to  remove  a  weed  or  pull  off  a  decayed  leaf, 


A   HEAD  OF  LETTUCE.  313 

talking  and  using  her  eyes  at  the  same  time.  Her 
yellow  hair  was  combed  smooth  and  flat  at  both 
sides  of  her  head  and  knotted  up  firmly  in  a  tight 
little  business  knot  behind.  She  wore  a  faded 
print  dress  and  a  shawl,  also  faded,  wrapped  round 
her  and  tied  by  the  ends  at  the  back;  but  both 
shawl  and  gown  were  clean  and  whole,  and  gave 
her  a  thoroughly  respectable  appearance.  At  Es 
ther's  last  remark  she  raised  herself  up  and  stood 
a  moment  silent. 

"  Wall,"  she  said,  "  that's  as  fur  as  you  kin  see. 
It's  ben  both  crooked  and  rough.  I  mayn't  look 
it, — where's  the  use?  And  I  don't  talk  of  it,  for 
I've  nobody  to  talk  to;  but  as  I  said,  human  natur'd 
like  to,  ef  it  had  a  chance.  I  haint  a  soul  in  the 
world  to  speak  to;  and  sometimes  I  feel  as  ef  I'd 
give  all  I've  got  in  the  world  to  talk.  Then,  mostly, 
I  go  into  the  garden  and  rout  out  the  weeds.  I  tell 
you !  they  has  to  fly,  those  times ! — But  I  believe 
folks  was  made  to  hev  company." 

"  Have  you  no  children  ?  " 

"Five  of  'em,  over  there, — "  the  woman  said, 
pointing  away,  Esther  could  only  guess  where,  as 
it  was  not  to  the  house.  She  was  sorry  she  had 
asked,  and  stood  silent. 

"  Five  of  'em,"  Mrs.  Blumenfeld  repeated  slowly. 
"  I  had  'em, — and  I  haven't  'em.  And  now,  there 
is  times  when  the  world  seems  to  me  that  solitary 
that  I'm  a'most  scared  at  myself/' 

Esther  stood  still,  with  mute  sympathy,  afraid  to 
speak. 


314  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"I  s'pose,  to  you  now,  the  world  is  all  full  o' 
friends  ?  "  the  other  went  on  more  lightly,  turning 
from  her  own  troubles,  as  it  were. 

"No,"  said  Esther  gently;  "not  at  all.  I  am 
very  much  alone,  and  always  have  been." 

"  Mebbe  you  like  it  ?  " 

"No,  I  do  not  like  it.  I  sometimes  wish  very 
much  for  one  or  two  friends  who  are  not  here." 

There  came  a  sigh  from  the  bosom  of  the  other 
woman,  unwonted  and  tale-telling,  and  heavy. 

"My  marriage  warn't  happy,"  she  said,  lower 
than  her  usual  tone.  "  I  kin  manage  the  garden 
alone;  and  I'd  jes'  as  lieve.  Two  minds  about  a 
thing  makes  unpeace;  and  I  set  a  great  deal  by 
peace.  But  it's  awful  lonely,  life  is,  now  and  then  !  " 

"  It  is  not  that  to  me,"  said  Esther  sympathizingly ; 
she  was  eager  to  speak,  and  yet  doubtful  just  what 
to  say.  She  fell  back  upon  what  perhaps  is  the 
safest  of  all,  her  own  experience.  "  Life  used  to  be 
like  that  to  me — at  one  time,"  she  went  on  after  a 
little  pause.  "  I  was  very  lonely,  and  sad,  and 
didn't  know  how  I  could  live,  without  comfort. 
And  then  I  got  it;  and  as  I  got  it,  I  think  so  may 
you." 

The  woman  looked  at  her,  not  in  the  least  under 
standing  what  she  would  be  at,  yet  fascinated  by 
the  sympathy — which  she  read  plainly  enough, — 
and  held  by  the  beauty.  By  something  besides 
beauty,  too,  which  she  saw  without  being  able  to 
fathom  it.  For  in  Esther's  eyes  there  was  the  in 
tense  look  of  love  and  the  fire  of  joy,  and  on  her 


A  HEAD  OF  LETTUCE.  315 

lips  the  loveliest  lines  of  tenderness  were  trembling. 
Mrs.  Blumenfeld  gazed  at  her,  but  would  almost  as 
soon  have  addressed  an  angel,  if  one  had  stood  be 
side  her  with  wings  that  proclaimed  his  heavenly 
descent. 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  I  got  comfort,"  Esther  went  on, 
keeping  carefully  away  from  anything  that  might 
seem  like  preaching.  "  I  was,  as  I  tell  you,  dark 
and  miserable,  and  hopeless.  Then  I  came  to  know 
the  Lord  Jesus ;  and  it  was  just  as  if  the  sun  had 
risen  and  filled  all  my  life  with  sunlight." 

The  woman  did  not  remove  her  eyes  from  Es 
ther's  face.  "  I  want  to  know !  "  she  said  at  last. 
"  I've  heerd  tell  o'  sich  things ; — but  I  never  see  no 
one  afore  that  hed  the  knowledge  of  'em,  like  you 
seem  to  hev.  I've  heerd  parson  talk." 

"This  is  not  parson  talk." 

"I  see  'taint.  But  what  is  it  then?  You  see, 
I'm  as  stupid  as  a  bumble  bee;  I  don't  understand 
nothin'  without  it's  druv  into  me — unless  it's  my 
garden.  Ef  you  ask  me  about  cabbages,  or  early 
corn,  I  kin  tell  you.  But  I  don't  know  no  more'n 
the  dead  what  you  are  talkin'  of." 

Esther's  eyes  filled  with  tender  tears.  "I  want 
you  to  know," — she  said.  "I  wish  you  could  know!" 

"  How  am  I  goin'  to  ?  " 

"  Do  what  I  did.  I  prayed  the  Lord  Jesus  to 
let  me  know  him;  I  prayed  and  prayed;  and  at 
last  he  came,  and  gave  me  what  I  asked  for.  And 
now,  I  tell  you,  my  life  is  all  sunlight,  because  He 
is  in  it.  Don't  you  know,  the  Bible  calls  him  the 


V 

316  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Sun  of  righteousness?  You  only  want  to  see 
him." 

"  See  him  !  "  echoed  the  woman.  "  There's  only 
one  sun  I  kin  see;  and  that's  the  one  that  rises 
over  in  the  east  there  and_  sets  where  he  is  goin'  to 
set  now, — over  the  Jersey  shore,  across  the  river." 

"  But  when  this  other  Sun  rises  in  the  heart,  he 
never  sets  any  more;  and  we  have  nothing  to  do 
with  darkness  any  more;  when  once  we  know  him." 

"  Know  him  ?  "  Mrs.  Blumenfeld  again  repeated 
Esther's  words.  "  Why  you're  speaking  of  God, 
aint  you  ?  You  kin  know  a  human  critter,  like 
yourself;  but  how  kin  you  know  Him  ?  " 

"I  cannot  tell,"  said  Esther;  "but  he  will  come 
into  your  heart  and  make  you  know  him.  And  when 
once  you  know  him,  then,  Mrs.  Blumenfeld,  you'll 
not  be  alone  any  more,  and  life  will  not  be  dark 
any  more;  and  you  will  just  grow  happier  and  hap 
pier  from  day  to  day.  And  then  comes  heaven." 

Mrs.  Blumenfeld  still  gazed  at  her. 

"  I  never  heerd  no  sich  talk  in  all  my  life ! "  she 
said.  "  An'  that's  the  way  you  live  now  ?  " 

Esther  nodded.          « 

"  An'  all  you  did  was  to  ask  for  it  ?  " 

"Yes.  But  of  course  I  studied  the  Bible,  to  find 
out  what  the  Lord  says  of  himself,  and  to  find  out 
what  he  tells  me  to  do  and  to  be.  For  of  course  I 
must  do  his  will,  if  I  want  him  to  hear  my  prayers. 
You  see  that." 

"I  expect  that  means  a  good  deal,  don't  it?" 

"  Yes." 


A  HEAD  OF  LETTUCE.  317 

"  Mebbe  somethin'  I  wouldn't  like  to  do." 

"You  will  like  to  do  it,  when  once  you  know 
him,"  Esther  said  eagerly.  "  That  makes  all  the 
difference.  You  know,  we  always  love  to  please 
anybody  that  we  love." 

The  gardener's  wife  had  become  very  thought 
ful.  She  went  along  her  garden  bed,  stooping  here 
to  strip  a  decayed  leaf  from  a  cabbage,  and  there 
to  pick  up  a  dry  bean  that  had  fallen  out  of  its  pod, 
or  to  pull  out  a  little  weed  from  among  her 
lettuces. 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you — "  she  said  suddenly. 

"You  see,"  said  Esther,  "  it  is  as  free  to  you 
as  to  me.  And  why  shouldn't  we  be  happy  if  we 
can?" 

"  But  there's  those  commandments  ? — that's  what 
skeers  me.  You  see,  I'm  a  kind  o'  self-willed 
woman." 

"It  is  nothing  but  joy,  when  once  you  know 
him." 

"  But  you  say  I  must  begin  with  doin'  what's  set 
down?" 

"  Certainly ;  as  far  as  you  know ;  or  the  Lord  will 
not  hear  our  prayers." 

"Wouldn't  it  do  after?"  said  Mrs.  Blumenfeld 
raising  herself  up  and  again  looking  Esther  in  the 
face.  There  was  an  odd  mixture  in  the  expression 
of  her  own,  half  serious,  half  keenly  comic. 

"  It  is  not  the  Lord's  way,"  said  Esther  gravely. 
"  Seek  him  and  obey  him,  and  you  shall  know.  But 
if  you  cannot  trust  the  Lord's  word  for  so  much, 


318  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

there  is  no  doing  anything.  '  Without  faith  it  is 
impossible  to  please  him.'  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  come  here  jes'  fur  to  tell 
me  all  this,  said  Mrs.  Blumenfeld  after  again  a 
pause,  "  but  I'm  real  obleeged  to  ye.  What's  to  go 
in  that  basket  ?  " 

"  I  brought  it,  to  see  if  you  could  let  us  have  a 
head  of  lettuce  ?  I  see  you  have  some." 

"Yes;  and  crisp,  and  cool,  and  nice  they  be;  just 
right.  Wall,  I  guess  we  kin.  See  here — that  bas 
ket  won't  hold  no  more'n  a  bite  for  a  bird ;  mayn't 
I  get  you  a  bigger  one  ?  " 

As  Esther  refused  this,  Mrs.  Blumenfeld  looked 
out  her  prettiest  head  of  lettuce,  skillfully  detached 
it  from  the  soil  and  insinuated  it  into  the  little  bas 
ket.  But  to  the  enquiry,  how  much  was  to  pay  ? 
Mrs.  Blumenfeld  returned  a  slight  shake  of  the 
head. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  myself  takin'  a  cent  from 
you !  Jes'  you  send  over — or  come  !  that's  better, 
— whenever  you'd  like  a  leaf  o'  salad,  or  anythin' 
else ;  and  if  it's  here,  you  shall  hev  it,  and  glad." 

"You  are  very  kind  !  " 

"Wall  no,  I  don't  think  that's  my  character. 
They'll  all  tell  you  I'm  honest.  Wall,  good  bye. 
An'  come  agin  ! " — she  cried  after  Esther.  "  It's 
more'n  likely  I'll  want  some  more  talkin'  to." 

Esther  went  home  slowly  and  musing.  The 
beauty  around  her,  which  she  had  but  half  noticed 
at  first  coming  out,  now  filled  her  with  a  great 
delight.  Or  rather,  her  heart  was  so  full  of  glad- 


A  HEAD  OF  LETTUCE.  319 

ness  that  it  flowed  over  upon  all  surrounding  things. 
Sunny  haze,  and  sweet  smells  of  dry  leaves  and 
moss,  and  a  mass  of  all  rich  neutral  tints  in  browns 
and  purples,  just  touched  here  and  there  for  a  paint 
er's  eye  with  a  spot  of  clear  colour,  a  bit  of  gold 
or  a  flare  of  flame — it  all  seemed  to  work  its  way 
into  Esther's  heart  and  make  it  swell  with  pleasure. 
She  stood  still  to  look  across  the  river,  which  lay 
smooth  like  a  misty  mirror  and  gave  only  a  rich, 
soft,  indeterminate  reflection  of  the  other  shore. 
But  the  thoughts  in  Esther's  mind  were  clear  and 
distinct.  Lonely?  had  she  ever  been  lonely  ?  What 
folly !  How  could  any  one  be  lonely,  who  had  the 
knowledge  of  Christ,  and  his  presence?  What 
sufficient  delight  it  was,  to  know  him,  and  to  love 
him,  and  to  be  always  with  him,  and  always  doing 
his  will !  If  poor  Mrs.  Blum  enf eld  only  knew — 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
WAYS  AND  MEANS. 

"TTSTHER  walked  slowly  home,  delivered  her  bas- 
C  ket  to  Barker,  and  went  to  her  father.  After 
the  usual  kiss  and  inquiry  about  how  the  week 
had  been,  he  relapsed  into  his  book ;  and  she  had 
to  wait  for  a  time  to  talk  of  anything  else.  Esther 
sat  down  with  a  piece  of  fancy  work  and  held  her 
tongue  till  tea-time.  The  house  was  as  still  as  if 
nobody  lived  in  it.  The  colonel  occasionally  turned 
a  leaf;  now  and  then  a  puff  of  gas  or  a  sudden  jet 
of  flame  in  the  Liverpool  coal  fire  gave  a  sort  of 
silent  sound,  rebuking  the  humanity  that  lived  there. 
No  noise  was  heard  from  below  stairs ;  the  middle- 
aged  and  well  trained  servants  did  their  work  with 
the  regularity  and  almost  with  the  smoothness  of 
machines.  It  occurred  to  Esther  anew  that  her  life 
was  excessively  quiet ;  and  a  thought  of  Pitt  and  how 
good  it  would  have  been  to  see  him,  arose  again, 
as  it  had  risen  so  many  "times.  And  then  came 
the  thoughts  of  the  afternoon.  With  Christ, — was 
not  that  enough?  Doing  his  will  and  having  it, — 
could  she  want  anything  more  ?  Esther  smiled  to 

herself.     She  wanted  nothing  more. 
(320) 


WAYS  AND  MEANS.  321 

Barker  came  in  with  the  tea-kettle,  and  the  cold 
tongue  and  the  salad  made  the  supper  table  look 
very  comfortable.  She  made  the  tea,  and  the  col 
onel  put  down  his  book. 

"  Do  you  never  get  tired  of  reading,  papa  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  dear.     One  gets  tired  of  everything!" 

This  was  said  with  a  discouraging  half  breath 
of  a  sigh. 

"Then  you  might  talk  a  little,  for  a  change,  papa." 

"  Humph !     Whom  should  I  talk  to  ?  " 

"  Me,  papa,  for  want  of  somebody  else." 

This  suggestion  fell  dead.  The  colonel  took  his 
toast  and  tried  the  salad. 

"Is  it  good,  papa?"  Esther  asked,  in  despair  at 
the  silence. 

"Yes,  my  dear;  it  is  good.  Vegetable  salads 
are  a  little  cold  at  this  time  of  year." 

"  Papa,  we  were  driven  to  it.  Barker  had  not 
money  enough  this  week  to  get  you  a  partridge. 
And  she  says  it  has  happened  several  times  lately 
that  you  have  forgotten  to  give  her  the  usual 
amount  for  the  week's  housekeeping." 

"  Then  she  says  wrong." 

"  She  told  me,  several  times  she  has  not  had 
enough,  sir." 

"  In  that  she  may  be  right." 

Esther  paused,  questioning  what  this  might  mean. 
She  must  know. 

"  Papa,  do  you  mean  you  gave  her  insufficient 
money  and  knew  it  at  the  time? " 

"  I  knew  it  at  the  time." 


322  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

There  was  another  interval,  of  greater  length. 
Esther  felt  a  little  chill  creeping  over  her.  Yet 
she  must  come  to  an  understanding  with  her 
father;  that  was  quite  indispensable. 

"  Papa,  do  you  mean  that  it  was  inadvertence  ? 
Or  was  it  necessity  ?  " 

"  How  could  it  be  inadvertence,  when  I  tell  you 
I  knew  what  I  did  ?  " 

"But  papa — "  Esther's  breath  almost  failed  her. 
"Papa,  we  are  living  just  as  we  always  have  lived?" 

"  Are  we  ?  " — somewhat  drily. 

"  There  is  my  schooling,  of  course — " 

"  And  rent, — and  a  horse  to  keep, — and  a  differ 
ent  scale  of  market  prices  from  that  which  we  had 
in  Seaforth.  Everything  costs  more  here." 

"There  was  the  money  for  the  sale  of  the  place, — " 
said  Esther  vaguely. 

"That  was  not  a  great  deal,  after  all.  It  was 
a  fair  price,  perhaps,  but  less  than  the  house  and 
ground  were  worth.  The  interest  of  that  does  not 
cover  the  greater  outlay  here." 

This  was  very  dismayful,  all  the  more  because 
Col.  Gainsborough  did  not  come  out  frankly  with 
the  whole  truth.  Esther  was  left  to  guess  it,  to 
fear  it,  to  fancy  it  more  than  it  was  perhaps.  She 
felt  that  she  could  not  have  things  left  in  this  in 
determinate  way. 

"  Papa,  I  think  it  would  be  good  that  I  should 
know  just  what  the  difference  is; — so  that  I  might 
know  how  to  bring  in  our  expenses  within  the  nec 
essary  limits." 


WAYS  AND  MEANS.  323 

"  I  have  not  cyphered  it  out  in  figures.  I  cannot 
tell  you  precisely  how  much  my  income  is  smaller 
than  it  used  to  be." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  how  much  we  ought  to  spend 
in  a  week,  papa? — and  then  we  will  spend  no  more." 

"  Barker  will  know,  when  I  give  it  to  her." 

The  colonel  had  finished  his  tea  and  toast,  which 
this  evening  he  certainly  did  not  enjoy ;  and  went 
back  to  his  book  and  his  sofa.  Though  indeed  he 
had  not  left  his  sofa;  he  went  back  to  a  reclining 
position;  and  Esther  moved  the  tea  table  away 
from  him.  She  was  bewildered.  She  forgot  to 
ring  for  Barker;  she  sat  thinking  how  to  bring 
the  expenses  of  the  family  within  narrower  limits. 
Possible  things  alternated  with  impossible  in  her 
mind.  She  mused  a  good  while. 

"  Papa,"  she  said,  breaking  the  silence  at  last, 
"  do  you  think  the  air  suits  you  here  ?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not.     I  have  no  cause." 

"  You  were  better  at  Seaforth  ?  " 

"  Decidedly.  My  chest  always  feels  here  a  cer 
tain  oppression.  I  suppose  there  is  too  much  sea 
air." 

Was  not  the  sea  quite  as  near  them  at  Seaforth  ? 
and  salt  air  quite  as  much  at  hand? — Esther  thought. 
However,  as  she  did  not  put  entire  faith  in  the  truth 
of  her  father's  conclusions,  it  was  no  use  to  question 
his  premises. 

"Papa,"  she  said  suddenly,  "suppose  we  go  back 
to  Seaforth  ?  " 

"  Suppose  nonsense !  " 


324  A  RED   WALLFLOWER. 

"  No,  sir,  but  I  do  not  mean  it  as  nonsense.  I 
have  had  one  year's  schooling;  that  will  be  invalu 
able  to  me;  now  with  books  I  can  go  on  by  myself. 
I  can  indeed,  papa,  and  will ;  you  shall  not  need  to 
be  ashamed  of  me." 

"  You  are  talking  foolishly,  Esther." 

"  I  do  not  mean  it  foolishly,  papa.  If  we  have 
not  the  means  to  live  here,  and  if  the  Seaforth  air 
is  so  much  better  for  you,  then  there  is  nothing  to 
keep  us  here  but  my  schooling;  and  that,  as  I  tell 
you,  I  can  manage  without.  And  I  can  manage 
right  well,  papa;  I  have  got  so  far  that  I  can  go 
on  alone  now.  I  am  seventeen ;  I  am  not  a  child 
any  longer." 

There  was  a  few  minutes'  silence,  but  probably 
that  fact,  that  Esther  was  a  child  no  longer,  im 
pelled  the  colonel  to  shew  her  a  little  more  con 
sideration. 

"  Where  would  you  go  ?  "  he  asked  a  trifle  drily. 

"Surely  we  could  find  a  place,  papa.  Couldn't 
you,  perhaps,  buy  back  the  old  house  ? — the  dear 
old  house ! — as  Mr.  Dallas  took  it  to  accommodate 
you?  I  guess  he  would  give  it  up  again." 

"  My  dear,  do  not  say  '  guess '  in  that  very  pro 
vincial  fashion !  I  shall  not  ask  Mr.  Dallas  to  play 
at  buying  and  selling  in  such  a  way.  It  would  be 
trifling  with  him.  I  should  be  ashamed  to  do  it. 
Besides,  I  have  no  intention  of  going  back  to  Sea 
forth  till  your  education  is  ended;  and  by  that  time, 
if  I  live  to  see  that  time,  1  shall  have  so  little  of 
life  left,  that  it  will  not  matter  where  I  spend  it." 


WAYS  AND  MEANS.  325 

Esther  did  not  know  how  to  go  on. 

"  Papa,  could  we  not  do  without  Buonaparte  ? 
I  could  get  to  school  some  other  way." 

"  How  ?  " 

Esther  pondered.  "Could  I  not  arrange  to  go 
in  Mrs.  Blumenfeld's  wagon,  when  it  goes  in  Mon 
day  morning  ?  " 

"Who  is  Mrs.  Blumenfeld?" 

"Why  papa!  She  is  the  woman  that  has  the 
market  garden  over  here.  You  know." 

"  Do  I  understand  you  aright  ?  "  said  the  colonel, 
laying  his  book  down  for  the  moment  and  looking 
over  at  his  daughter.  "Are  you  proposing  to  go 
into  town  with  the  cabbages  ?  " 

"  Papa — I  do  not  mind.  I  would  not  mind  at 
all,  if  it  would  be  a  relief  to  you.  Mrs.  Blumenfeld's 
wagon  is  very  neat." 

"  My  dear,  I  am  surprised  at  you !  " 

"  Papa,  I  would  do  anything,  rather  than  give 
you  trouble.  And  after  all,  I  should  be  just  as 
much  myself,  if  I  did  go  with  the  cabbages." 

"  We  will  say  no  more  about  it,  if  you  please," 
said  the  colonel,  taking  up  his  book  again. 

"  One  moment,  papa !  one  word  more.  Papa,  I 
am  so  afraid  of  doing  something  I  ought  not.  Can 
you  not  give  me  a  hint,  what  sort  of  proportion 
our  expenditures  ought  to  bear  to  our  old  ways  ?  " 

"There  is  the  rent,  and  the  keeping  of  the  horse, 
to  be  made  good.  Those  are  additions  to  our  ex 
penses;  and  there  are  no  additions  to  my  income. 
You  know  now  as  much  as  I  can  tell  you." 


326  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

The  discussion  was  ended,  and  left  Esther  chilled 
and  depressed.  The  fact  itself  could  be  borne,  she 
thought,  if  it  were  looked  square  in  the  face  and 
met  in  the  right  spirit.  As  it  was  she  felt  involved 
in  a  mesh  of  uncertainty.  The  rent,  she  knew  how 
much  that  was;  no  such  great  matter;  how  much 
Buonaparte's  keep  amounted  to  she  had  no  idea. 
She  would  find  out.  But  how  to  save  even  a  very 
few  hundred  dollars,  even  one  or  two  hundred,  by 
retrenchment  of  the  daily  expenses,  Esther  did 
not  see.  Better,  she  thought,  make  some  great 
change,  cut  off  some  larger  item  of  the  household 
living,  and  so  cover  the  deficit  at  once,  than  spare 
a  partridge  here  and  a  pound  of  meat  there.  That 
was  a  kind  of  petty  and  vexing  care,  which  re 
volted  her.  Far  better  dispense  with  Buonaparte 
at  once  and  go  into  town  with  the  cabbages.  It 
will  be  seen  that  Esther  as  yet  was  not  possessed 
of  that  which  we  call  knowledge  of  the  world.  It 
did  not  occur  to  her  that  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
cabbages  would  hurt  her,  though  it  might  hurt  her 
fastidious  taste.  It  would  not  hurt  her,  Esther 
thought;  and  what  did  the  rest  matter?  Anything 
but  this  pinching  and  sparing  penny  by  penny. 
But  if  she  drove  into  town  with  the  cabbages,  that 
would  only  dispose  of  Buonaparte;  the  other  item, 
the  rent,  would  remain  unaccounted  for.  How 
should  that  be  made  up? 

Esther  pondered,  brooded,  tired  herself  with 
thinking.  She  could  not  talk  to  Barker  about  it, 
and  there  was  no  one  else.  Once  more  she  felt  a 


WAYS  AND  MEANS.  327 

little  lonely  and  a  good  deal  helpless,  though  ener 
gies  were  strong  within  her  to  act,  if  she  had  known 
how  to  act.  She  mounted  the  stairs  to  her  room 
with  an  unusual  slow  step,  and  shut  her  door,  but 
she  had  brought  her  trouble  in  with  her.  Esther 
went  to  her  window  to  look  out,  as  we  all  are  so 
apt  to  do  when  some  trouble  seems  too  big  for  the 
house  to  hold.  There  is  a  vague  counsel-taking 
with  nature,  to  which  one  is  impelled  at  such  times ; 
or  is  it  sympathy-seeking  ?  The  sweet  October  after 
noon  had  passed  into  as  sweet  an  evening;  the  hazy 
stillness  was  unchanged,  and  through  the  haze  the 
silver  rays  of  a  half  moon  high  in  the  heavens  came 
with  the  tenderest  touch  and  the  most  gracious  soft 
ness  upon  all  earthly  things.  There  was  a  vapour- 
ous  glitter  on  the  water  of  the  broad  river,  a  dewy 
or  hazy  veil  on  the  land ;  the  scene  could  not  be  im 
agined  more  witching  fair  or  more  removed  from 
any  sort  of  discordance.  Esther  stood  looking,  and 
her  heart  calmed  down.  She  had  been  feeling  dis 
tressed  under  the  question  of  ways  and  means;  now 
it  occurred  to  her,  "  Take  no  thought  for  the  mor 
row,  what  ye  shall  eat  or  what  ye  shall  drink ; — 
your  Father  knoweth  that  ye  have  need  of  all  these 
things."  And  as  the  words  came,  Esther  shook  off 
the  trouble  they  condemn ;  shook  it  off  her  shoulders, 
as  it  were,  and  left  it  lying.  Still  she  felt  alone; 
she  wished  for  Pitt  Dallas,  or  for  somebody;  she  had 
no  one  but  her  father  in  all  the  world ;  nor  the  hope 
of  any  one.  And  happy  as  she  really  was,  yet  the 
human  instinct  would  stir  in  Esther;  the  instinct 


328  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

that  longs  for  intercourse,  sympathy,  affection; 
somebody  to  talk  to,  to  counsel  with,  to  share  in 
her  joys  and  sorrows  and  experiences  generally. 
It  is  a  perfectly  natural  and  justifiable  desire; 
stronger  perhaps  in  the  young  than  in  the  old,  for 
the  old  know  better  how  much  and  how  little  so 
ciety  amounts  to,  and  are  not  apt  to  have  such 
violent  longings  in  general  for  anything.  But 
also  to  the  old,  loving  companionship  is  inexpress 
ibly  precious;  the  best  thing  by  far  that  this 
world  contains  or  this  life  knows.  And  Esther 
longed  for  it  now,  even  till  tears  rose  and  dimmed 
her  sight,  and  made  all  the  moonshiny  landscape 
swim  and  melt  and  be  lost  in  the  watery  veil.  But 
then,  as  the  veil  cleared  and  the  moonlight  came 
into  view  again,  came  also  other  words  into  Es 
ther's  mind. — "  Be  content  with  such  things  as  ye 
have;  for  He  hath  said,  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor 
forsake  thee." 

She  cleared  away  her  tears  and  smiled  to  herself, 
in  happy  assurance  and  wonder  that  she  should 
have  forgotten.  And  with  that,  other  words  still 
came  to  her;  words  that  had  never  seemed  so 
exceeding  sweet  before. 

"  None  of  them  that  trust  in  him  shall  be  deso 
late." — That  is  a  sure  promise.  "  Fear  not,  Abra 
ham;  I  am  thy  shield,  and  thine  exceeding  great 
reward." — Probably,  when  this  word  was  given, 
the  father  of  the  faithful  was  labouring  under  the 
very  same  temptation,  to  think  himself  alone  and 
lonely.  And  the  answer  to  his  fears  must  be  suf- 


WAYS  AND  MEANS.  329 

ficient,  or  He  who  spoke  it  would  never  have  spoken 
it  to  him  just  at  that  time. 

Esther  stood  a  while  at  her  window,  thinking 
over  these  things,  with  a  rest  and  comfort  of  heart 
indescribable ;  and  finally  laid  herself  down  to  rest 
with  the  last  shadow  gone  from  her  spirit. 

It  could  not  be,  however,  but  that  the  question 
returned  the  next  day,  what  was  to  be  done  ?  Ex 
penses  must  not  outrun  incomings;  that  was  a  fixed 
principle  in  Esther's  mind,  resting  as  well  on  honour 
as  honesty.  Evidently,  when  the  latter  do  not 
cover  the  former,  one  of  two  things  must  be 
done;  expenses  must  be  lessened,  or  income  in 
creased.  How  to  manage  the  first,  Esther  had 
failed  to  find ;  and  she  hated  the  idea  besides  of  a 
penny  ha'penny  economy.  Could  their  incomings 
be  added  to?  By  teaching!  It  flashed  into  Es 
ther's  mind  with  a  disagreeable  illumination.  Yes, 
that  she  could  do,  that  she  must  do,  if  her  father 
would  not  go  back  to  Seaforth.  There  was  no 
other  way.  He  could  not  earn  money;  she  must. 
If  they  continued  to  live  in  or  near  New  York,  it 
must  be  on  her  part  as  a  teacher  in  a  school.  The 
first  thought  of  it  was  not  pleasant.  Esther  was 
tempted  to  wish  they  had  never  left  Seaforth,  if 
the  end  of  it  was  to  be  this.  But  after  the  first 
start  of  revulsion  she  gathered  herself  together. 
It  would  put  an  end  to  all  their  difficulties.  It 
would  be  honourable  work,  and  good  work;  and 
after  all,  work  in  some  sort  is  what  everybody  should 
have ;  nobody  is  put  here  to  be  idle.  Perhaps  this 


330  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

pressure  of  circumstances  was  on  purpose  to  push 
her  into  the  way  that  was  meant  for  her;  the  way 
in  which  it  was  the  Lord's  pleasure  she  should 
serve  him  and  the  world.  And  having  got  this 
view  of  it,  Esther's  last  reluctance  was  gone. 
For  you  see,  what  was  the  Lord's  pleasure  was 
also  hers. 

Her  heart  grew  quite  light  again.  She  saw 
what  she  had  to  do.  But  for  the  first,  the  thing  was, 
to  go  as  far  in  her  learning  as  her  father  desired 
her  to  go.  She  must  finish  her  own  schooling. 
And  if  Esther  had  studied  hard  before,  she  studied 
harder  now;  applied  herself  with  all  the  power  of 
her  will  to  do  her  utmost  in  every  line.  It  was 
not  a  vague  thought  of  satisfying  Pitt  Dallas  that 
moved  her  now ;  but  a  very  definite  purpose  to  take 
care  of  her  father,  and  a  ready  joy  to  do  the  will 
of  Him  whom  Esther  loved  even  better  than  her 
father. 

The  thought  of  Pitt  Dallas  indeed  went  into 
abeyance.  Esther  had  something  else  to  do.  And 
the  summer  had  passed  and  he  had  not  come;  that 
hope  was  over;  and  two  years  more  must  go  by, 
according  to  the  plan  which  Esther  knew,  before 
he  would  come  again.  Before  that  time,  who 
could  tell?  Perhaps  he  would  have  forgotten 
them  entirely. 

It  happened  one  day,  putting  some  drawers  in 
order,  that  Esther  took  up  an  old  book  and  care 
lessly  opened  it.  Its  leaves  fell  apart  at  a  place 
where  there  lay  a  dry  flower.  It  was  the  sprig  of 


WAYS  AND  MEAN'S.  331 

red  Cheiranthus;  not  faded;  still  with  its  velvety 
petals  rich  tinted,  and  still  giving  forth  the  faint 
sweet  fragrance  which  belongs  to  the  flower.  It 
gave  Esther  a  thrill.  It  was  the  remaining  fragment 
of  Pitt's  Christmas  bouquet,  which  she  had  loved  and 
cherished  to  the  last  leaf  as  long  as  she  could.  She 
remembered  all  about  it.  Her  father  had  made  her 
burn  all  the  rest ;  this  blossom  only  had  escaped, 
without  her  knowledge  at  the  time.  The  sight  of 
it  went  to  her  heart.  She  stood  still  by  her  chest 
of  drawers  with  the  open  book  in  her  hand,  gazing 
at  the  wallflower  in  its  persistent  beauty.  All  came 
back  to  her;  Seaforth,  her  childish  days,  Pitt  and 
her  love  for  him,  and  his  goodness  to  her;  the  sor 
row  and  the  joy  of  that  old  time ;  and  more  and  more 
the  dry  flower  struck  her  heart.  Why  had  her 
father  wanted  her  to  burn  the  others?  why  had 
she  kept  this  ?  And  what  was  the  use  of  keeping 
it  now?  When  anything,  be  it  a  flower,  be  it  a 
memory,  which  has  been  fresh  and  sweet  loses  al 
together  its  beauty  and  its  savour,  what  is  the 
good  of  still  keeping  it  to  look  at?  Truly  the 
flower  had  not  lost  either  beauty  or  savour;  but 
the  memory  that  belonged  to  it  ?  what  had  become 
of  that  ?  Pitt  let  himself  no  more  be  heard  from ; 
why  should  this  little  place-keeper  be  allowed  to 
remain  any  longer  ?  Would  it  not  be  wiser  to  give 
it  up,  and  let  the  wallflower  go  the  way  of  its  former 
companions.  Esther  half  thought  so;  almost  made 
the  motion  to  throw  it  in  the  fire ;  but  yet  she  could 
not.  She  could  not  quite  do  it.  Maybe  there  was 


332  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

an  explanation;  perhaps  Pitt  would  come  next  time, 
when  another  two  years  had  rolled  away,  and  tell 
them  all  about  it.  At  any  rate  she  would  wait. 

She  shut  up  the  book  again  carefully,  and  put  it 
safely  away. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
ONIONS. 

IT  seemed  very  inexplicable  to  Esther  that  Pitt 
was  never  heard  from.  Not  a  scrap  of  a  letter 
had  they  had  from  him  since  they  came  to 
New  York.  Mr.  Dallas  the  elder  had  written  once 
or  twice,  mostly  on  business,  and  said  nothing 
about  his  son.  That  was  all.  Mrs.  Dallas  never 
wrote.  Esther  would  have  been  yet  m  ore  bewildered 
if  she  had  known  that  the  lady  had  been  in  New 
York  two  or  three  times,  and  not  merely  passing 
through,  but  staying  to  do  shopping.  Happily  she 
had  no  suspicion  of  this. 

One  day,  late  in  the  autumn,  Christopher  Boun 
der  went  over  to  Mrs.  Blumenfeld's  garden.  It  lay 
in  pretty  fall  order,  trim  and  clean ;  bushes  pruned, 
canes  tied  up,  vines  laid  down,  leaves  raked  off;  all 
the  work  done,  up  to  the  very  day.  Christopher 
bestowed  an  approving  glance  around  him  as  he 
went  among  the  beds;  it  was  all  right  and  ship 
shape.  Nobody  was  visible  at  the  moment;  and 
he  passed  on,  round  the  house  to  the  rear,  from 
whence  he  heard  a  great  racket  made  by  the  voices 

(333) 


334  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

of  poultry.  And  there  they  were ;  as  soon  as  he 
turned  the  corner  he  saw  them ;  a  large  flock  of 
hens  and  chickens,  geese,  ducks  and  turkeys;  all 
wobbling  and  squabbling.  In  the  midst  of  them 
stood  the  gardener's  widow,  with  her  hands  in  the 
pockets  of  a  great  canvass  apron ;  or  rather  with  her 
hands  in  and  out;  for  from  the  pockets,  which  were 
something  enormous,  she  was  fetching  and  distrib 
uting  haridfulls  of  oats  and  corn  to  her  feathered 
beneficiaries.  Christopher  drew  near,  as  near  as 
he  could,  for  the  turkeys,  and  Mrs.  Blumenfeld  gave 
him  a  nod. 

"  Good  morning,  mum  !  " 

"  Good  day  to  ye." 

"  Them's  a  fine  lot  o'  turkeys !  " — Christopher 
really  had  a  good  deal  of  education,  and  even  knew 
some  Latin;  nevertheless,  in  common  life,  the  in 
stincts  of  his  early  habits  prevailed,  and  he  said 
"  Them  "  by  preference. 

"  Aint  they  !  "  rejoined  Mrs.  Blumenfeld.  "  They 
had  ought  to  be,  for  they've  given  me  plague 
enough.  Every  spring  I  think  it's  the  last  turkeys 
I'll  raise;  and  every  winter,  jes'  as  regular,  I  think 
it  'ud  be  well  to  set  more  turkey  eggs  next  year  than 
I  did  this'n.  You  see,  a  good  fat  roast  turkey  is 
what  you  can't  beat.  Not  in  this  country." 

"  Nor  can't  equal  in  England,  without  you  go  to 
the  game  covers  for  it.  They're  for  the  market,  I 
s'pose  ?  " 

"  Wall,  I  calkilate  to  send  some  on  'em.  I  do 
kill  a  turkey  once  in  a  while  for  myself,  but  la,  how 


ONIONS.  335 

long  do  ye  think  it  takes  me  to  eat  up  a  turkey  ? 
I  get  sick  of  it,  afore  I'm  done." 

"You  want  company,"  suggested  Mr.  Bounder. 

But  to  this  the  lady  made  no  answer  at  all.  She 
finished  scattering  her  grain,  and  then  turned  to  her 
visiter,  ready  for  business.  Christopher  could  not 
but  look  at  her  with  great  approbation.  She  was 
dressed  much  as  Esther  had  seen  her  a  few  weeks 
before;  a  warm  shawl  wrapped  and  tied  around  the 
upper  part  of  her  person,  bareheaded,  hair  in  neat  and 
tight  order,  and  her  hands  in  her  capacious  pockets. 

"  Now  I  kin  attend  to  ye,"  she  said,  leaving  the 
chickens  and  geese,  which  for  the  present  were 
quiet,  picking  up  their  breakfast.  But  Mr.  Bounder 
did  not  go  immediately  to  business. 

"  That's  a  capital  notion  of  an  apron ! "  he  said 
admiringly. 

"  Aint  it ! "  she  answered.  "  0  I'm  great  on  no 
tions.  I  believe  in  savin'  yourself  all  the  trouble 
you  kin,  provided  you  don't  lose  no  time  by  it. 
There  is  folks,  you  know,  that  air  soft-headed 
enough  to  think  they  kin  git  rid  o'  trouble  by 
losin'  their  time.  I  aint  o'  that  sort." 

"  I  should  say,  you  have  none  o'  that  sort  o'  peo 
ple  about  you." 

"  Wall,  I  don't.  Not  ef  I  kin  help  it.  Anyhow, 
ef  I  get  'em  I  contrive  to  lose  'em  agin.  But  what 
was  you  wantin'  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  see  if  you  could  let  us  have  our  win 
ter's  onions  ?  White  onions,  you  know.  It's  all  the 
sort  we  can  do  with,  up  at  the  house." 


336  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Onions?"  said  Mrs.  Blumenfeld,  "Why  haint 
you  riz  your  own  onions,  I  want  to  know  ?  You've 
got  a  garden." 

"That  is  true,  mum,"  said  Christopher;  "but  all 
the  onions  as  was  in  it  is  gone." 

"Then  you  didn't  plant  enough." 

"And  that's  true  too,"  said  Christopher;  "but  I 
can't  say  as  I  takes  any  blame  to  myself  for  it." 

"  Sakes  alive,  man  !  aiiit  you  the  gardener?" 

"  At  your  service,  mum." 

"  Wall,  then,  why,  when  you  were  about  it,  why 
didn't  you  sow  your  seeds  accordin'  to  your  needs?" 

"  I  sowed  all  the  seed  I  had." 

"All  you  had!"  cried  the  little  woman.  "That 
sounds  kind  o'  shiftless;  and  I  don't  take  you  for 
that  sort  of  a  man  neither,  Mr.  Bounder." 

"Much  obleeged  for  your  good  opinion,  mum." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  git  more  onion  seed,  du 
tell,  when  you  knowed  you  hadn't  enough  ?  " 

"  As  I  said,  mum,  1  am  much  obleeged  for  your 
good  opinion,  which  I  hope  I  deserve.  There  is 
reasons,  which  must  determine  a  man,  upon  occa 
sion,  to  do  what  you  would  not  approve — unless 
you  also  knowed  the  reasons." 

This  sounded  oracular.  The  two  stood  and  looked 
at  one  another.  Christopher  explained  himself  no 
further;  however,  Mrs.  Blumenfeld's  understanding 
appeared  to  improve.  She  looked  first  inquisitive, 
and  then  intelligent. 

"That  comes  kind  o'  hard  upon  me,  at  the  end," 
she  said  with  a  somewhat  humorous  expression. 


ONIONS.  337 

"  You  see,  I've  made  a  vow —    You  believe  in  vows, 
Mr.  Bounder  V  " 

"  I  do,  mum, — of  the  right  sort." 
.  "  I  don't  make  no  other.     Wall,  I've  made  a  vow 
to  myself,  you  see.     Look  here, — what  do  you  call 
that  saint  o'  your'n  ?  up  to  your  house." 

"I  don't  follow  you,  mum,"  said  Christopher  a 
good  deal  mystified. 

"You  know  you've  got  a  saint  there,  I  s'pose. 
What's  her  name  ?  that's  what  I  want  to  know." 

"  Do  you  mean  Miss  Esther  ?  " 

"  Ah !  that's  it.  I  never  heerd  of  a  Saint  Esther. 
There  was  an  Esther  in  the  Bible — I'll  tell  you! 
She  was  a  Queen  Esther;  and  that  fits.  Aint  she 
a  kind  o'  a  queen !  But  she's  tother  thing  too.  Look 
here,  Mr.  Bounder;  be  you  all  saints  up  to  your 
house  ?  " 

"  Well  no,  mum,  not  exactly;  that's  not  altogether 
the  description  I'd  give  of  some  of  us,  if  I  was  stat 
ing  my  opinion." 

"  Don't  you  think  you  had  ought  to  be  that  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  we  ought — "  said  Christopher,  with 
wondering  slow  admission. 

"  I  kin  tell  you.  There  aint  no  question  about  it. 
Folks  had  ought  to  live  up  to  their  privileges;  an' 
you've  got  a  pattern  there  right  afore  your  eyes. 
I  hev  no  opinion  of  you,  ef  you  aint  all  better'n 
common  folks.  I'd  be,  I  know,  ef  I  lived  a  bit 
where  she  was." 

"  It's  different  with  a  young  lady, — "  Christopher 
began. 


338  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Why  is  it  different  ?  "  said  the  woman  sharply. 
"You  and  me,  we've  got  as  good  right  to  be  saints 
as  she  has,  or  anybody.  I  tell  yyu  I've  made  a 
vow.  I  aint  no  saint,  but  I'm  a  goin'  to  sell  her 
no  onions." 

"  Mum  !  " — said  Christopher  astounded. 

"Nor  nothin'  else,"  Mrs.  Blumenfeld  went  on. 
"  How  many  d'ye  want  ?  " 

Mr.  Bounder's  wits  were  not  quick  enough  to  fol 
low  these  sharp  Yankee  turns.  Like  the  ships  his 
countrymen  build,  he  could  not  come  about  so  quick. 
It  is  curious,  how  the  qualities  of  people's  minds 
get  into  their  shipbuilding  and  other  handicraft. 
It  was  not  till  Mrs.  Blumenfeld  had  repeated  her 
question  that  he  was  able  to  answer  it. 

"  I  suppose,  mum,  a  half  a  bushel  wouldn't  be  no 
more'n  enough  to  go  through  with." 

"Wall,  I've  got  some,"  the  gardener's  widow 
went  on;  "the  right  sort;  white,  and  as  soft  as 
cream,  and  as  sweet  as  onions  kin  be.  I'll  send  you 
up  a  bag  of 'em." 

"But  then  I  must  be  allowed  to  pay  for  'em," 
said  Christopher. 

"I  tell  you,  I  won't  sell  her  nothin' — neither 
onions  nor  nothin'  else." 

"  Then,  mum, — it's  very  handsome  of  you,  mum ; 
that  I  must  say,  and  won't  deny;  — but  in  that  case 
I  am  afraid  Miss  Esther  would  prefer  that  I  should 
get  the  onions  somewheres  else." 

"  Jes'  you  hold  your  tongue  about  it,  an'  I'll  send 
up  the  sass ;  and  ef  your  Queen  Esther  says  anything, 


ONIONS.  339 

you  tell  her  it's  all  paid  for.     What  else  do  you 
want  that's  my  way  ?  " 

While  she  spoke  Mrs.  Blumenfeld  was  carefully 
detaching  a  root  of  celery  from  the  rich  loose  soil 
which  enveloped  it,  and  shaking  the  white  stalks 
free  from  their  encumbrance,  Mr.  Bounder  the 
while  looking  on  approvingly,  both  at  the  celery, 
which  was  beautifully  long  and  white  and  delicate, 
and  at  the  condition  of  things  generally  on  the 
ground,  all  of  which  his  eye  took  in ;  although  he 
was  too  much  of  a  magnate  in  his  own  line  to  ex 
press  the  approval  he  felt. 

"There!"  said  Mrs.  Blumenfeld,  eyeing  her 
celery  stalks, — "kin  you  beat  that  where  you 
come  from  ?  " 

"It's  very  fair,"  said  Christopher; — "very  fair. 
But  England  can  beat  the  world,  mum,  in  garden 
ing  and  that.  I  suppose  you  can't  expect  it  of  a 
new  country  like  this." 

"  Can't  expect  what  ?  to  beat  the  world  ?  You  jes 
wait  a  bit,  till  you  see.  You  jes'  only  wait  a  bit." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  England  and  America 
going  into  partnership  ?"  asked  Mr.  Bounder,  bend 
ing  to  pick  up  a  refuse  stem  that  Mrs.  Blumenfeld 
had  rejected.  "  Think  we  couldn't  be  a  match  for 
most  things,  u-nited  ?  " 

"  I  find  myself  a  match  for  most  things,  as  it  is, 
returned  the  lady  promptly. 

"  But  you  must  want  help  sometimes  ? "  said 
Christopher,  with  a  sharp  and  somewhat  sly  glance 
at  her. 


340  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  When  I  do,  I  git  it,— or  I  do  without  it." 

"  That's  when  you  can't  get  the  right  kind." 

"Jes'  so." 

"  It  aint  for  a  man  properly  to  say  what  he  can 
do  or  what  he  can't  do;  words  is  but  breath,  they 
say;  and  those  as  know  a  man  can  give  a  pretty 
good  guess  what  he's  good  for ;  but  howsever,  when 
he's  speakin'  to  them  as  dont  know  him,  perhaps  it 
aint  no  more  but  fair  that  he  should  be  allowed  to 
speak  for  himself.  Now  if  I  say  that  accordin'  to 
the  best  o'  my  knowledge  and  belief,  what  I  offer 
you  is  the  right  kind  o'  help,  you  won't  think  it's 
brag  or  bluster,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Why  shouldn't  1  ?  "  said  the  little  woman.  But 
Christopher  thought  the  tone  of  the  words  was  not 
discouraging.  They  does  allays  practise  fence,  he 
thought  to  himself. 

"  Well,  mum,  if  you  hev  ever  been  up  to  our 
place  in  the  summer  time,  you  may  hev  seen  our 
garden ;  and  to  a  lady  o'  your  experience  I  needn't 
to  say  no  more." 

"  Wall,"  said  Mrs.  Blumenfeld  by  way  of  con 
ceding  so  much,  "  I'll  allow  Col.  Gainsborough  has 
a  pretty  fair  gardener,  ef  he  lies  some  furrin 
notions." 

"  I'll  bring  them  foreign  notions  to  your  help, 
mum,"  said  Mr.  Bounder  eagerly.  "  I  know  my 
business,  as  well  as  any  man  on  this  side  or  that 
side  either.  It's  no  boastin'  to  say  that." 

"  Sounds  somethin'  like  it.  But  what'll  the 
colonel  do  without  you,  or  the  colonel's  garden? 


ONIONS.  341 

that's  what  I  can't  make  out.  Hev  you  and  he 
hed  a  falling  out  ?  "  And  the  speaker  raised  her 
self  up  straight  and  looked  full  at  her  visiter. 

"  There's  nothin'  like  that  possible  1 "  said  Mr. 
Bounder  solemnly.  "  The  colonel  aint  a  goin'  to  do 
without  me,  my  woman.  No  more  can't  I  do  with 
out  the  colonel,  I  may  say.  I've  lived  in  the  family 
now  this  twenty  year;  and  as  long  as  I  can  grow 
spinach  they  aint  a  goin'  to  eat  no  other — without 
it's  yours,  mum,"  Christopher  added  with  a  change 
of  tone.  "Or  yours  and  mine.  You  see,  the 
grounds  is  so  near,  that  goin'  over  to  one  aint  for- 
sakin'  the  other;  and  the  colonel,  he  hasn't  really 
space  and  place  for  a  man  that  can  do  what  I 
can  do." 

"  An'  what  is  it  you  propose  ?  " 

"  That  you  should  take  me,  mum,  for  your  head 
man." 

The  two  were  standing  now,  quite  still,  looking 
into  one  another's  eyes;  a  little  sly  audacity  in 
those  of  Christopher,  while  a  smile  played  about 
his  lips  that  was  both  knowing  and  conciliating. 
Mrs.  Blumenfeld  eyed  him  gravely,  with  the  calm 
air  of  one  who  was  quite  his  match.  Christopher 
could  tell  nothing  from  her  face. 

"  I  s'pose,"  she  said,  "  you'll  want  ridiculous 
wages." 

44  By  no  means,  mum  !  "  said  Christopher,  waving 
his  hand.  u  There  never  was  nothin'  ridiculous 
about  you.  I'll  punch  anybody's  head  that  says  it." 

Mrs.  Blumenfeld  shook  the  last  remnant  of  soil 


342  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

from  the  celery  roots  and  handed  the  bunch  to 
Christopher. 

"There,"  she  said,  "you  may  take  them  along 
with  you — you'll  want  'em  for  dinner.  An'  I'll 
send  up  the  onions.  An'  the  rest  I'll  think  about. 
Good  day  to  ye !  " 

Christopher  went  home  well  content. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
PEACHES. 

winter  passed,  Esther  hardly  knew  how. 
1  For  her  it  was  in  a  depth  of  study;  so  ab 
sorbing  that  she  only  now  and  then  and  by  minutes 
gave  her  attention  to  anything  else.  Or  perhaps  I 
should  say,  her  thoughts;  for  certainly  the  colonel 
never  lacked  his  ordinary  care,  which  she  gave  him 
morning  and  evening  and  indeed  all  day,  when  she 
was  at  home,  with  a  tender  punctuality  which 
proved  the  utmost  attention.  But  even  while  min 
istering  to  him,  Esther's  head  was  apt  to  be  run 
ning  on  problems  of  geometry  and  ages  of  history 
and  constructions  of  language.  She  was  so  utterly 
engrossed  with  her  work  that  she  gave  little  heed 
to  anything  else.  She  did  notice  that  Pitt  Dal 
las  still  sent  them  no  reminders  of  his  existence; 
it  sometimes  occurred  to  her  that  the  housekeep 
ing  in  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Barker  was  becoming 
more  and  more  careful;  but  the  only  way  she  saw 
to  remedy  that,  was  the  way  she  was  pursuing; 

and  she  went  only  the  harder  at  her  constructions 

(343) 


344  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

and  translations  and  demonstrations.  The  colonel 
lived  his  life  without  any  apparent  change. 

And  so  went  weeks  and  months;  winter  passed 
and  spring  carne;  spring  ran  its  course,  and  the 
school  year  at  last  was  at  an  end.  Esther  came 
home  for  the  long  vacation.  And  then  one  day, 
Mrs.  Barker  confided  to  her  reluctantly  that  the 
difficulties  of  her  position  were  increasing. 

"  You  ask  me,  why  don't  I  get  more  strawberries, 
Miss  Esther.  My  dear,  I  can't  do  it." 

"  Cannot  get  strawberries  ?  But  they  are  in 
great  plenty  now,  and  cheap." 

"Yes  mum,  but  there's  so  many  other  things, 
Miss  Esther." — The  housekeeper  looked  distressed. 
Esther  was  startled,  and  hesitated. 

"  You  mean,  you  have  not  money,  Barker  ?  Papa 
does  not  give  you  enough?" 

"  He  gives  me  the  proper  sum,  Miss  Esther,  I'm 
certain ;  but  I  can't  make  it  do  all  it  should  do,  to 
have  things  right  and  comfortable." 

"  Do  you  have  less  than  you  used  at  the  begin 
ning  of  winter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mum.  I  didn't  want  to  trouble  you,  Miss 
Esther,  for  to  be  sure  you  can't  do  nothin'  to  help 
it;  but  it's  just  growin'  slimmer  and  slimmer." 

"Never  mind;  I  think  I  know  how  to  mend 
matters  by  and  by;  if  we  can  only  get  along  for  a 
little  further.  We  must  have  some  things,  and  my 
father  likes  fruit ;  you  can  get  strawberries  from  Mrs. 
Blumenfeld  down  here,  can  you  not  ?  " 

"No,  mum,"  said  the  housekeeper  looking  em- 


PEACHES.  345 

barrassed.  "  She  won't  sell  us  nothin',  that  woman 
won't." 

"  Will  not  sell  us  anything?  I  thought  she  was 
so  kind.  What  is  the  matter  ?  Is  there  not  a  good 
understanding  between  her  and  us?" 

"  There's  too  good  an  understanding,  mum,  and 
that's  the  truth.  We  don't  want  no  favours  from 
the  likes  o'  her;  and  now  Christopher — " 

"What  of  Christopher?" 

"  Hairit  he  said  nothin'  to  the  colonel  ?  " 

"  To  papa  ?     No.     About  what  ?  " 

"  He's  gone  and  made  an  ass  o'  himself,  has 
Christopher,"  said  the  housekeeper  colouring  with 
displeasure. 

"  Why  ?     How  ?     What  has  he  done  ?  " 

"  He  haint  done  nothin'  yet,  mum,  but  he's  bound 
he  will, — do  the  foolishest  thing  a  man  o'  his  years 
can  do.  An'  he  wants  me  to  stan'  by  and  see  him ! 
I  do  lose  my  patience  whiles  where  I  can't  find  it. 
As  if  Christopher  hadn't  enough  to  think  of  with 
out  that!  Men  is  all  just  creatures  without  the 
power  o'  thought  and  foresight."  . 

"  Thought  ? — why,  that  is  precisely  what  is  sup 
posed  to  be  their  distinguishing  privilege,"  said 
Esther,  a  little  inclined  to  laugh.  "And  Christo 
pher  was  always  very  foresighted." 

"  He  ain't  now,  then,"  muttered  his  sister. 

"What  is  he  doing?" 

"  Miss  Esther,  that  yellow-haired  woman  has  got 
holt  o'  him." 

This  was  said  with  a  certain  solemnity,  so  that 


346  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Esther  was  very  much,  bewildered,  and  most  inco 
herent  visions  flew  past  her  brain.  She  waited 
dumbly  for  more. 

"She  has,  mum,"  the  housekeeper  repeated;  "and 
Christopher  aint  a  babby  no  more,  but  he's  took — 
that's  what  he  is.  I  wish,  Miss  Esther — as  if  that 
would  do  any  good! — that  we'd  staid  in  Seaforth, 
where  we  was.  I'm  that  provoked,  I  don't  rightly 
know  myself.  Christopher  aint  a  babby  no  more; 
but  it  seems  that  don't  keep  a  man  from  bein' 
wuss'n  a  fool." 

"  Do  you  mean — " 

"Yes'm,  that's  what  he  has  done;  just  that;  and 
I  might  as  well  talk  to  my  spoons.  I've  knowed 
it  a  while,  but  I  was  purely  ashamed  to  tell  you 
about  it.  I  allays  gave  Christopher  the  respect 
belongin'  to  a  man  o'  sense,  if  he  warn't  in  high 
places." 

"  But  what  has  he  done  ?  " 

"Didn't  I  tell  you,  Miss  Esther?  That  yellow- 
haired  woman  has  got  holt  of  him." 

"  Yellow-haired  woman  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mum, — the  gardener  woman  down  here." 

"Is  Christopher  going  to  take  service  with  her?" 

"  He  don't  call  it  that,  mum.  He  speaks  gay 
about  bein'  his  own  master.  I  reckon  he'll  find 
two  aint  as  easy  to  manage  as  one !  She  knows 
what  she's  about,  that  woman  does,  or  my  name 
aint  Sarah  Barker." 

"Do  you  mean,"  cried  Esther,  "do  you  mean 
that  he  is  going  to  marry  her?" 


PEACHES.  347 

"  That's  *vhat  I've  been  tellin'  you,  mum,  all 
along.  He's  goin'  to  many  her,  that  he  is;  and 
for  as  old  as  he  is,  that  should  know  better.'1 

"0  but  Christopher  is  not  old;  that  is  nothing; 
he  is  young  enough.  I  did  not  think,  though, 
he  would  have  left  us." 

"  An'  that,  mum,  is  just  what  he's  above  all  sure 
and  certain  he  won't  do.  I  tell  him,  a  man  can't 
walk  two  ways  to  once;  nor  he  can't  serve  two 
masters,  even  if  one  of  'em  is  himself,  which  that 
yellow-haired  woman  won't  let  come  about.  No, 
mum,  he's  certain  sure  he'll  never  leave  the  colonel, 
mum ;  that  ain't  his  meaning." 

Esther  went  silently  away,  thinking  many  things. 
She  was  more  amused  than  anything  else,  with  the 
lightheartedness  of  youth ;  yet  she  recognized  the 
fact  that  this  change  might  introduce  other  changes. 
At  any  rate  it  furnished  an  occasion  for  discussing 
several  things  with  her  father.  As  usual  when  she 
wanted  a  serious  talk  with  the  colonel,  she  waited 
till  the  time  when  his  attention  would  be  turned 
from  his  book  to  his  cup  of  tea. 

"  Papa,"  she  began,  after  the  second  cup  was  on 
its  way,  "  have  you  heard  anything  lately  of  Chris 
topher's  plans  ?  " 

u  Christopher's  plans  ?  I  did  not  know  he  had 
any  plans,"  said  the  colonel  drily. 

"  He  has,  papa,'*  said  Esther,  divided  between  a 
desire  to  laugh  and  a  feeling  that  after  all  there 
was  something  serious  about  the  matter.  "  Papa, 
Christopher  has  fallen" in  love." 


348  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Fallen  in  ivhat?"  shouted  the  colonel. 

"Papa!  please  take  it  softly.  Yes,  papa,  really; 
Christopher  is  going  to  be  married." 

"  He  has  not  asked  ray  consent." 

"  No,  sir,  but  you  know — Christopher  is  of  age," 
said  Esther,  unable  to  maintain  a  gravity  in  any 
way  corresponding  to  that  on  her  father's  face. 

"  Don't  talk  folly  !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  He  has  arranged  to  marry  Mrs.  Blumenfeld, — 
the  woman  who  keeps  the  market  garden  over  here. 
He  does  not  mean  to  leave  us,  papa;  the  places  are 
so  near,  you  know.  He  thinks,  I  believe,  he 
can  manage  both." 

"  He  is  a  fool !  " 

"  Barker  is  very  angry  with  him.  But  that  does 
not  help  anything." 

"He  is  an  ass!"  repeated  the  colonel  hotly. 
"  Well,  that  settles  one  question." 

"  What  question,  papa  ?  " 

"We  have  done  with  Christopher.  I  want  no 
half  service.  I  suppose  he  thinks  he  will  make  more 
money;  and  I  am  quite  willing  he  should  try." 

Esther  could  see  that  her  father  was  much  more 
seriously  annoyed  than  he  chose  to  shew;  his  tone 
indicated  a  very  unusual  amount  of  disturbance.  He 
turned  from  the  table  and  took  up  his  book. 

"  But  papa — how  can  we  do  without  Christopher?" 

There  was  no  answer  to  this. 

"  I  suppose  he  really  has  a  great  deal  of  time  to 
spare;  our  garden  ground  is  so  little,  you  know. 
He  does  not  mean  to  leave  us* at  all." 


PEACHES.  349 

"  I  mean  he  shall !  " 

Esther  sat  silent  and  pondered.  There  were  other 
things  she  wished  to  speak  about;  was  not  this  a 
good  occasion?  But  she  hesitated  long  how  to  be 
gin.  The  colonel  was  not  very  deep  in  his  book, 
she  could  see;  he  was  too  much  annoyed. 

"  Papa,"  she  said  slowly  after  a  while, — "  are  our 
circumstances  any  better  than  they  were  ?  " 

"  Circumstances  ?  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Money,  papa; — have  we  any  more  money  than 
we  had  when  we  talked  about  it  last  fall  ?  " 

"Where  is  it  to  come  from?  "  said  the  colonel  in 
the  same  short,  dry  fashion.  It  was  the  fashion  in 
which  he  was  wont  to  treat  unwelcome  subjects,  and 
always  drove  Esther  away  from  a  theme,  unless  it 
were  too  pressing  to  be  avoided. 

"  Papa,  you  know  I  do  not  know  where  any  of 
our  money  comes  from ;  except  the  interest  on  the 
price  of  the  sale  at  Seaforth." 

"  I  do  not  know  where  any  more  is  to  come  from." 

"  Then,  papa,  don't  you  think  it  would  be  good 
to  let  my  schooling  stop  here  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Papa,  I  want  to  make  a  very  serious  proposi 
tion  to  you.  Do  not  laugh  at  me" — (the  colonel 
looked  like  anything  but  laughing,)  "  but  listen  to 
me  patiently.  You  know  we  cannot  go  on  perma 
nently  as  we  have  done  this  year — paying  out  more 
than  we  took  in  ?  " 

"That  is  my  affair." 

4  But  it  is  for  my  sake,  papa,  and  so  it  comes 


350  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

home  to  me.  Now  this  is  my  proposal.  I  have 
really  had  schooling  enough.  Let  me  give  lessons." 

"  Let  you  do  what  ?  " 

"Lessons,  papa;  let  me  give  lessons.  I  have  not 
spoken  to  Miss  Fairbairn ;  but  I  am  almost  sure  she 
would  be  glad  of  me ;  one  of  her  teachers  is  going 
away.  I  could  give  lessons  in  Latin  and  French 
and  English,  and  drawing;  and  still  have  time  to 
study;  and  I  think  it  would  make  up  perhaps  all 
the  deficiency  in  our  income." 

The  colonel  looked  at  her.  "  You  have  not  spoken 
of  this  scheme  to  anybody  else  ?  " 

"No,  sir;  of  course  not." 

"  Then  do  not  speak  of  it." 

"You  do  not  approve  of  it,  papa?" 

"  No.  My  purpose  in  giving  you  an  education 
was  not  that  you  might  be  a  governess." 

"But  papa,  it  would  not  hurt  me  to  be  a  gover 
ness  for  a  while? — it  would  do  me  no  sort  of  hurt; 
and  it  would  help  our  finances.  There  is  another 
thing  I  could  teach;  mathematics." 

"  I  have  settled  that  question,"  said  the  colonel 
going  back  to  his  book. 

"Papa,"  said  the  girl  after  a  pause,  "may  I 
give  lessons  enough  to  pay  for  the  lessons  that  are 
given  me  ?  " 

"No." 

"  But  papa — it  troubles  me  very  much,  the  thought 
that  we  are  living  beyond  our  means;  and  on  my 
account."  And  Esther  now  looked  troubled. 

"  Leave  all  that  to  me." 


PEACHES.  351 

Well  it  was  all  very  well  to  say,  Leave  that  to 
me ;  but  Esther  had  a  strong  impression  that  mat 
ters  of  this  sort,  so  left,  would  not  meet  very 
thorough  attention.  There  was  an  interval  here  of 
some  length,  during  which  she  was  pondering  and 
trying  to  get  up  her  courage  to  go  on. 

"  Papa,"  she  broke  the  silence  doubtfully, — "  I 
do  not  want  to  disturb  you — but  I  must  speak  a 
little  more.  Perhaps  you  can  explain — I  want  to 
understand  things  better.  Papa,  do  you.  know 
Barker  has  still  less  money  now  to  do  the  market 
ing  with  than  she  had  last  year  ?  " 

"  Well — what  do  you  want  explained  ?  "  The 
tone  was  dry  and  not  encouraging. 

"  Papa,  she  cannot  get  the  things  you  want." 

"  Do  I  complain  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  certainly ;  but — is  this  necessary  ?  " 

"  Is  what  necessary  ?  " 

"  Papa,  she  tells  me  she  cannot  get  you  the  fruit 
you  ought  to  have;  you  are  stinted  in  strawberries 
and  she  has  not  money  to  buy  raspberries." 

"  Call  Barker." 

The  call  was  not  necessary,  for  the  housekeeper  at 
this  moment  appeared  to  take  away  the  tea  things. 

"Mrs.  Barker,"  said  the  colonel,  "you  will  un 
derstand  that  I  do  not  wish  any  fruit  purchased 
for  my  table.  Not  until  further  orders." 

The  housekeeper  glanced  at  Esther,  and  answered 
with  her  decorous,  "Certainly,  sir," — and  with  that, 
for  the  time,  the  discussion  was  ended. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

V 

HAY   AND    OATS. 

BUT  it  is  in  the  nature  of  this  particular  subject, 
that  the,  discussion  of  it  is  apt  to  recur.  Esther 
kept  silence  for  some  time,  possessing  herself  in 
patience  as  well  as  she  could.  Nothing  more  was 
said  about  Christopher,  by  anybody;  and  things 
went  their  old  train;  minus  peaches,  to  be  sure, 
and  also  minus  pears  and  plums  and  nuts  and 
apples;  articles  which  Esther  at  least  missed, 
whether  her  father  did  or  not.  Then  fish  began 
to  be  missing. 

"  I  thought,  Miss  Esther,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Barker 
when  this  failure  in  the  menu  was  mentioned  to 
her,  u  I  thought,  maybe  the  colonel  wouldn't  mind, 
if  he  had  a  good  soup ;  and  the  fish  aint  so  nourishing 
they  say,  as  the  meat  of  the  land  creatures.  Is  it 
because  they  drinks  so  much  water,  Miss  Esther  ?  " 

"  But  I  think  papa  does  not  like  to  go  without 
his  fish." 

"Then  he  must  have  it,  mum,  to  be  sure;  but 
I'm  sure  I  don't  just  rightly  know  how  to  procure  it 
It  must  be  done  however." 
(352) 


HAY  AND  OATS.  353 

The  housekeeper's  face  looked  doubtful,  notwith 
standing  her  words  of  assurance,  and  a  vague  fear 
seized  her  young  mistress. 

"  Do  not  get  anything  you  have  not  money  to 
pay  for,  at  any  rate !  "  she  said  impressively. 

"  Well,  mum,  and  there  it  is! "  cried  the  house 
keeper.  u  There  is  things  as  cannot  be  dispensed 
with,  in  no  gentleman's  house.  I  thought  maybe 
fish  needn't  be  counted  among  them  things;  but 
now  it  seems  it  must.  I  may  as  well  confess,  Miss 
Esther;  that  last  barrel  o'  flour  aint  been  paid  for 
yet." 

"  Not  paid  for !  "  cried  Esther  in  horror.  "  How 
came  that?" 

"Well,  mum,  just  that  I  hadn't  the  money.  And 
bread  must  be  had." 

"  Not  if  it  cannot  be  paid  for !  I  would  rather 
starve,  if  it  comes  to  that.  You  might  have  got 
a  lesser  quantity." 

"No,  mum,"  replied  the  housekeeper;  "you.  have 
to  have  the  whole  barrel  in  the  end;  and  if  you 
get  it  by  bits  you  pay  every  time  for  the  privilege. 
No,  mum,  that  aint  no  economy.  It's  one  o'  the 
things  which  kills  poor  people;  they  has  to  pay 
for  havin'  every  quart  of  onions  measured  out  to 
'em.  I'm  afeard  Christopher  haint  had  no  money 
for  his  hay  and  his  oats  that  he's  got  latterly." 

"  Hay  and  oats  !  "  cried  Esther.  "  Would  he  get 
them  without  orders,  and  means  ?  " 

"  I  s'pose  he  thinks  he  has  his  orders  from  natur. 
The  horse  can't  be  let  to  go  without  his  victuals, 


354  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

mum?     And  means  Christopher  hadn't,  more'n  a 
quarter  enough.     What  was  he  to  do  ?  " 

Esther  stood  silent,  and  pale;  making  no  dem 
onstration,  but  the  more  profoundly  moved  and 
dismayed. 

*'  An'  what's  harder  on  my  stomach  than  all  the 
rest,"  the  housekeeper  went  on,  "is  that  woman 
sendin'  us  milk. — " 

"  That  woman  ?     Mrs.  Blumenfeld  ?  " 

"  Which  it  was  her  name,  mum." 

"  Was!  You  do  not  mean — Is  Christopher  really 
married  ?  " 

"He  says  that,  mum,  and  I  suppose  he  knows. 
He's  back  and  forth,  and  don't  live  nowheres,  as  I 
tells  him.  And  the  milk  comes  plentiful,  and  to 
be  sure  the  colonel  likes  his  glass  of  a  mornin'; 
and  curds,  and  blancmange,  and  the  like,  I  see 
he's  no  objection  to;  but  thinks  I  to  myself,  if  he 
knowed,  it  wouldn't  go  down  quite  so  easy." 

"  If  he  knew  what  ?     Don't  you  pay  for  it  ?  " 

"I'd  pay  that,  Miss  Esther,  if  I  paid  nothin'  else; 
but  Christopher's  beyond  my  management  and  won't 
hear  of  no  money;  nor  his  wife  neither,  he  says. 
It's  uncommon  impudence,  mum,  that's  what  I  think 
it  is.  .Set  her  up!  to  give  us  milk,  and  onions,  and 
celery;  and  she  would  send  apples,  only  I  dursn't 
put  'em  oh  the  table,  being  forbidden;  and  so  I  tells 
Christopher." 

Esther  was  penetrated,  through  and  through, 
with  several  feelings  while  the  housekeeper  spoke ; 
touched  with  the  kindness  manifested,  but  terribly 


HAY  AND  OATS,  355 

humbled  that  it  should  be  needed,  and  that  it 
should  be  accepted.  This  must  not  go  on;  but 
in  the  mean  time  there  was  another  thing  that 
needed  mending. 

"  Have  you  been  to  see  your  new  sister,  Barker?" 

"  Me  ?  That  yellow-haired  woman  ?  No,  mum ; 
and  have  no  desire." 

"  It  would  be  right  to  go,  and  to  be  very  kind 
to  her." 

"She's  that  independent,  mum,  she  don't  want 
no  kindness.  She's  got  her  man;  and  I  wish  her 

joy!" 

"  I  am  sure  you  may,"  said  Esther  halt  laughing. 
"  Christopher  will  certainly  make  her  a  good  hus 
band.  Hasn't  he  been  a  good  brother?  " 

"Miss  Esther,"  said  the  housekeeper  solemnly, 
"the  things  is  different.  It's  my  belief  there  aint 
half  a  dozen  men  on  the  face  o'  the  earth  that  is 
fit  to  have  wives;  and  one  o'  the  half  dozen  I  never 
see  yet.  Christopher's  a  good  brother,  mum,  as 
you  say;  as  good  as  you'll  find,  maybe;  I've  nought 
against  him  as  sich;  but  then,  I  aint  his  wife;  and 
that  makes  all  the  differ.  There's  no  tellin'  what 
men  don't  expect  o'  their  wives,  when  once  they've 
got  'em." 

"Expectations  ought  to  be  mutual,  I  should 
think,"  said  Esther,  amused.  "But  it  would  be 
the  right  thing  for  you  to  go  and  see  Mrs.  Bounder 
at  any  rate,  and  to  be  very  good  to  her;  and 
you  know,  Barker,  you  always  like  to  do  what  is 
right." 


356  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

There  was  a  sweet  persuasiveness  in  the  tone  of 
the  last  words,  which  at  least  silenced  Mrs.  Barker ; 
and  Esther  went  away  to  think  what  she  should 
say  to  her  father.  The  time  had  come  to  speak  in 
earnest,  and  she  must  not  let  herself  be  silenced. 
Getting  into  debt  on  one  hand,  and  receiving  char 
ity  on  the  other !  Esther's  pulses  made  a  bound 
whenever  she  thought  of  it.  She  must  not  put  it 
so  to  Col.  Gainsborough.  How  should  she  put  it? 
She  knelt  down  and  prayed  for  wisdom ;  and  then 
she  went  to  the  parlour.  It  was  one  Saturday 
afternoon,  in  the  winter;  school  business  in  full 
course,  and  Esther's  head  and  hands  very  much 
taken  up  with  her  studies.  The  question  of  ways 
and  means  had  been  crowded  out  of  her  very  mem 
ory  for  weeks  past;  it  came  with  so  much  the 
sharper  incisiveness  now.  She  went  in  where  her 
father  was  reading,  poked  the  fire,  brushed  up  the 
hearth,  finally  faced  the  business  in  hand. 

"  Papa,  are  you  particularly  busy  ?  Might  I  in 
terrupt  you  ?  " 

"You  have  interrupted  me,"  said  the  colonel, 
letting  his  hand  with  the  book  sink  to  his  side 
and  turning  his  face  towards  the  speaker.  But 
he  said  it  with  a  smile,  and  looked  with  pleased 
attention  for  what  was  coming.  His  fair,  graceful, 
dignified  daughter  was  a  constant  source  of  pride 
and  satisfaction  to  him;  though  he  gave  little 
account  of  the  fact  to  himself  and  made  scarce  any 
demonstration  of  it  to  her.  He  saw  that  she  was 
fair  beyond  most  women,  and  that  she  had  that 


HAY  AND  OATS.  357 

refined  grace  of  carriage  and  manner  which  he 
valued  as  belonging  to  the  highest  breeding. 
There  was  never  anything  careless  about  Esther's 
appearance,  01*  hasty  about  her  movements,  or  any 
thing  that  was  not  sweet  as  balm  in  her  words  and 
looks.  As  she  stood  there-  now  before  him,  serious 
and  purposeful;  her  head,  which  was  set  well  back 
on  her  shoulders,  carried  so  daintily,  and  the  beau 
tiful  eyes  intent  with  grave  meaning  amid  their 
softness;  Col.  Gainsborough's  heart  swelled  in  his 
bosom,  for  the  delight  he  had  in  her. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked.  "  What  do  you  want 
to  say  to  me  ?  All  goes  well  at  school  ?  " 

"  0  yes,  papa ;  as  well  as  possible.  It  isn't  that. 
But  I  am  in  a  great  puzzle  about  things  at  home." 

"Ah?     What  things?" 

"Papa,  we  want  more  money,  or  we  need  to 
make  less  expenditure.  I  must  consult  you  as  to 
the  which  and  the  how." 

The  colonel's  face  darkened.  "  I  see  no  neces 
sity,"  he  answered. 

"  But  I  do,  papa.  I  see  it  so  clearly  that  I  am 
forced  to  disturb  you.  I  am  very  sorry,  but  I  must. 
I  am  sure  the  time  has  come  for  us  to  take  some 
decided  measures.  We  cannot  go  on  as  we  are 
going  now." 

"  I  should  like  to  ask,  why  not  ?  " 

"Because,  papa, — because,  the  outlay  and  the 
income  do  not  meet." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  is  rather  my  affair,"  said 
the  colonel  coolly. 


358  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Yes,  papa,"  said  Esther  with  a  certain  eager 
ness,  "  I  like  it  to  be  your  affair;  only  tell  me  what 
I  ought  to  do."  i 

"Tell  you  what  you  ought  to  do  about  what?  " 

"  How  to  pay  as  we  go,  papa,"  she  answered  in 
a  lower  tone. 

"  It  is  very  simple,"  the  colonel  said  with  some 
impatience.  "  Let  your  expenses  be  regulated  by 
your  means.  In  other  words,  do  not  get  anything 
you  have  not  the  money  for." 

"  I  should  like  to  follow  that  rule,  papa ;  but — " 

"  Then  follow  it,"  said  the  colonel,  going  back  to 
his  book,  as  if  the  subject  were  dismissed. 

"  But  papa,  there  are  some  things  one  must 
have." 

"Very  well.  Get  those  things.  That  is  precisely 
what  I  mean." 

"  Papa,  flour  is  one  of  them." 

"  Yes.     Very  well !     What  then  ?  " 

"Our  last  barrel  of  flour  is  not  paid  for." 

"  Not  paid  for !     Why  not  ?  " 

"Barker  could  not,  papa." 

"  Barker  should  not  have  got  it,  then.  I  allow 
no  debts." 

"But  papa,  we  must  have  bread,  you  know. 
That  is  one  of  the  things  that  one  cannot  do  with 
out.  What  should  she  do  ?  "  Esther  said  gently. 

"  She  could  go  to  the  baker's,  I  suppose,  and  get 
a  loaf  for  the  time." 

"  But  papa,  the  bread  costs  twice  as  much  that 
way.  Or  one  third  more,  if  not  twice  as  much.  I 


HAY  AND  OATS.  359 

do  not  know  the  exact  proportion ;  but  I  know,  it 
is  very  greatly  more  expensive  so." 

The  colonel  was  well  enough  acquainted  with 
details  of  the  commissary  department  to  know  it 
also.  He  was  for  a  moment  silenced. 

"And  papa,  Buonaparte  too  must  eat;  and  his 
oats  and  hay  are  not  paid  for."  It  went  sharp  to 
Esther's  heart  to  say  the  words,  for  she  knew  how 
keenly  they  would  go  to  her  father's  heart;  but 
she  was  standing  in  the  breach  and  must  fight  her 
fight.  The  colonel  flew  out  in  hot  displeasure; 
sometimes,  as  we  all  know,  the  readiest  disguise 
of  pain. 

"  Who  dared  to  get  hay  and  oats  in  my  name  and 
leave  it  unpaid  for  ?  " 

44  Christopher  had  not  the  money,  papa ;  and  the 
horse  must  eat." 

"Not  without  my  order!"  said  the  colonel.  "I 
will  send  Christopher  about  his  own  business.  He 
should  have  come  to  me." 

There  was  a  little  pause  here.  The  whole  dis 
cussion  was  exceedingly  painful  to  Esther;  yet  it 
must  be  gone  through,  and  it  must  be  brought  to 
some  practical  conclusion.  While  she  hesitated,  the 
colonel  began  again. 

44  Did  you  not  tell  me  that  the  fellow  had  some 
ridiculous  foolery  with  the  market  woman  over 
here?" 

44 1  did  not  put  it  just  so,  papa,  I  think,"  said 
Esther,  smiling  in  spite  of  her  pain.  4'  Yes,  he  is 
married  to  her." 


360  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Married  !  "  cried  the  colonel.  "  Married,  do 
you  say?  Has  he  had  the  impudence  to  do  that?" 

"Why  not,  sir?  Why  not  Christopher  as  well 
as  another  man  ?  " 

"  Because  he  is  my  servant,  and  had  no  permis 
sion  from  me  to  get  married  while  he  was  in  my 
service.  He  did  not  ask  permission." 

"  I  suppose  he  dared  not,  papa.  You  know  you 
are  rather  terrible  when  you  are  displeased.  But  I 
think  it  is  a  good  thing  for  us,  that  he  is  married. 
Mrs.  Blumenfeld  is  a  good  woman,  and  Christopher 
is  disposed  of,  whatever  we  do." 

"  Disposed  of!  "  said  the  colonel.  "  Yes !  I  have 
done  with  him.  I  want  no  more  of  him." 

"  Then,  papa,"  said  Esther,  sinking  down  on  her 
knees  beside  her  father  and  affectionately  laying 
one  hand  on  his  knee,  "  don't  you  see  this  makes 
things  easy  for  us  ?  I  have  a  proposition.  Will 
you  listen  to  it  ?  " 

"  A  proposition ! — Say  on." 

"  It  is  evident  that  we  must  take  some  step  to 
bring  our  receipts  and  expenses  into  harmony. 
Your  going  without  fruit  and  fish  will  not  do  it, 
papa;  and  I  do  not  like  that  way  of  saving,  besides. 
I  had  rather  make  one  large  change — cut  off  one 
or  two  large  things — than  a  multitude  of  small 
ones.  It  is  easier,  and  pleasanter.  Now  so  long 
as  we  live  in  this  house  we  are  obliged  to  keep  a 
horse;  and  so  long  as  we  have  a  horse  we  must 
have  Christopher,  or  some  other  man;  and  so  long 
as  we  keep  a  horse  and  a  man,  we  must  make  this 


HAY  AND  OATS.  361 

large  outlay,  that  we  cannot  afford.  Papa, — I  pro 
pose  we  move  into  the  city." 

"  Move  ! — Where  ? "  asked  the  colonel  with  a 
very  unedified  expression. 

"  We  could  find  a  house  in  the  city  somewhere, 
papa,  from  which  I  could  walk  to  Miss  Fairbairn's. 
That  could  not  be  difficult" 

"  Who  is  to  find  the  house  ?  " 

"  Could  not  you,  papa  ?  Buonaparte  would  take 
you  all  over;  the  driving  would  not  do  you  any 
harm." 

"  I  have  no  idea  where  to  begin,"  said  the  colonel, 
rubbjng  his  head  in  uneasy  perplexity. 

"  I  will  find  out  that,  papa.  I  will  speak  to  Miss 
Fairbairn;  she  is  a  great  woman  of  business.  She 
will  tell  me." 

The  colonel  still  rubbed  his  head  thoughtfully. 
Esther  kept  her  position,  in  readiness  for  some  new 
objection.  The  next  words  however  surprised  her. 

"I  have  sometimes  thought,"  —  the  colonel's 
fingers  were  all  the  while  going  through  and 
through  his  hair;  the  action  indicating,  as  such 
actions  do,  the  mental  movement  and  condition; 
— "I  have  sometimes  thought,  lately,  that  per 
haps  I  was  doing  you  a  wrong  in  keeping  you 
here." 

"  Here,  papa  ?— in  New  York  ?  " 

"No.     In  America." 

"  In  America !     Why,  sir  ?  " 

"Your  family,  my  family,  are  all  on  the  other 
side.  You  would  have  friends  if  you  were  there, 


362  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

— you  would  have  opportunities, — you  would  not 
be  alone.  And  in  case  I  am  called  away,  you  would 
be  in  good  hands.  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  the 
right  to  keep  you  here." 

"  Papa,  I  like  to  be  where  you  like  to  be.  Do 
not  think  of  that.  Why  did  we  come  away  from 
England  in  the  first  place  ?  " 

The  colonel  was  silent,  with  a  gloomy  brow. 

"  It  was  nothing  better  than  a  family  quarrel," 
he  said. 

"About  what?     Do  you  mind  telling  me,  papa?" 

"No,  child;  you  ought  to  know.  It  was  a  quar 
rel  on  the  subject  of  religion." 

"  How,  sir  ?  " 

"Our  family  have  been  Independents  from  all 
time.  But  my  father  married  a  second  wife,  be 
longing  to  the  Church  of  England.  She  won  him 
over  to  her  way  of  thinking.  I  was  the  only  child 
of  the  first  marriage;  and  when  I  came  home  from 
India  I  found  a  houseful  of  younger  brothers  and 
sisters,  all  belonging  of  course  to  the  Establish 
ment,  and  my  father  with  them.  I  was  a  kind  of 
outlaw.  The  advancement  of  the  family  was  thought 
to  depend  very  much  on  the  stand  I  would  take, 
as  after  my  father's  death  I  would  be  the  head  of 
the  family.  At  least  my  stepmother  made  that  a 
handle  for  her  schemes;  and  she  drove  them  so 
successfully  that  at  last  my  father  declared  he 
would  disinherit  me  if  I  refused  to  join  him." 

"  In  being  a  Church  of  England  man  ?  " 

"Yes." 


HAY  AND  OATS.  363 

"  But  papa,  that  was  very  unjust !  " 

"  So  I  thought.     But  the  injustice  was  done." 

"  And  you  disinherited  V  " 

"Yes." 

"  0  papa !  Just  because  you  followed  your  own 
conscience ! " 

"Just  because  I  held  to  the  traditions  of  the 
family.  We  had  always  been  Independents;  fought 
with  Cromwell  and  suffered  under  the  Stuarts.  I 
was  not  going  to  turn  my  back  on  a  glorious  record 
like  that,  for  any  possible  advantages  of  place  and 
favour." 

"  What  advantages,  papa  ?  I  do  not  understand. 
You  spoke  of  that  before." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  colonel  a  little  bitterly,  "  in  that 
particular  my  stepmother  was  right.  You  little 
know  the  social  disabilities  under  which  those  lie 
in  England,  who  do  not  belong  to  the  Established 
Church.  For  policy,  nobody  should  be  a  Dissenter." 

"  Dissenter  ! "  echoed  Esther,  the  word  awaking 
a  long  train  of  old  associations;  and  for  a  moment 
her  thoughts  wandered  back  to  them. 

"  Yes,"  the  colonel  went  on, — "  my  father  bade 
me  follow  him;  but  with  more  than  equal  right  I 
called  on  him  to  follow  a  long  line  of  ancestors. 
Eather  hundreds  than  one !  " — 

"  Papa,  in  such  a  matter,  surely  conscience  is  the 
only  thing  to  follow?  "said  Esther  softly.  "You 
do  not  think  a  man  ought  to  be  either  Independent 
or  Church  of  England,  just  because  his  fathers  have 
set  him  the  example  ?" 


364  A  RED  WALLFLOWER 

"You  do  not  think  example  and  inheritance  are 
anything  ?  "  said  the  colonel. 

"I  think  they  are  everything,  for  the  right; — 
most  precious ! — but  they  cannot  decide  the  right. 
That  a  man  must  do  for  himself,  must  he  not?" 

"  Kepublican  doctrine !  "  said  the  colonel  bitterly. 
"T  suppose,  after  I  am  gone,  you  will  become  a 
Ci mrch  of  England  woman,  just  to  prove  to  your 
self  and  others  that  you  are  not  influenced  by 
me!" 

"  Papa,"  said  Esther  half  laughing,  "  I  do  not 
think  that  is  at  all  likely ;  and  I  am  sure  you  do 
not.  And  so  that  was  the  reason  you  came  away  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  stay  there,"  said  the  colonel,  "  and  see 
my  young  brother  in  my  place,  and  his  mother  rul 
ing  where  your  mother  should  by  right  have  ruled. 
They  did  not  love  me  either, — why  should  they  ? — 
and  I  felt  more  a  stranger  there  than  anywhere 
else.  So  I  took  the  little  property  that  came  to  me 
from  my  mother,  to  which  my  father  in  his  will  had 
made  a  small  addition,  and  left  England  and  home 
for  ever." 

There  was  a  pause  of  some  length. 

"  Who  is  left  there  now,  of  the  family  ?  "  Esther 
asked. 

"  I  have  not  heard." 

"  Do  they  never  write  to  you  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  Nor  you  to  them,  papa  ?  " 

"No.  Since  I  came  away,  there  has  been  no 
intercourse  whatever  between  our  families." 


HAY  AND  OATS.  365 

"  Oh,  papa !  "— 

"  I  am  inclined  to  regret  it  now,  for  your  sake." 

"I  arn  not  thinking  of  that.  But  papa,  it  must 
be  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  now;  isn't  it?" 

"  Something  like  so  much." 

"  0  papa,  do  write  to  them  !  do  write  to  them,  and 
make  it  up.  Do  not  let  the  quarrel  last  any  longer." 

"  Write  to  them  and  make  it  up  ? "  said  the 
colonel  rubbing  his  head  again.  In  all  his  life 
Esther  had  hardly  ever  seen  him  do  it  before. 
"  They  have  forgotten  me  long  ago ;  and  1  suppose 
they  are  all  grown  out  of  my  remembrance.  But 
it  might  be  better  for  you  if  we  went  home." 

"Never  mind  that,  papa;  that  is  not  what  I  am 
thinking  of.  Why  who  could  be  better  off  than  I 
am  ?  But  write  and  make  it  all  up,  papa;  do  ! — it 
isn't  good  for  families  to  live  so  in  hostility.  Do 
what  you  can  to  make  it  up." 

The  colonel  sat  silent,  rubbing  the  hair  of  his 
head  in  every  possible  direction;  while  Esther's 
fancy  for  a  while  busied  itself  with  images  of  an 
unknown  crowd  of  relations  that  seemed  to  flit  be 
fore  her.  How  strange  it  would  be,  to  have  aunts 
and  cousins;  young  and  old  family  friends,  such  as 
other  girls  had;  instead  of  being  so  entirely  set 
apart  by  herself  as  it  were.  It  was  fascinating,  the 
mere  idea.  Not  that  Esther  felt  her  loneliness  now ; 
she  was  busy  and  healthy  and  happy;  yet  this  sud 
den  vision  made  her  realize  that  she  was  alone. 
How  strange,  and  how  pleasant,  it  would  be,  to  have 
a  crowd  of  friends;  of  one's  own  blood  and  name. 


366  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

She  mused  a  little  while  over  this  picture,  and  then 
came  back  to  the  practical  present. 

"Meanwhile,  papa,  what  do  you  think  of  my 
plan?  About  getting  a  house  in  the  city,  and 
giving  up  Buonaparte  and  his  oats?  Don't  you 
think  it  would  be  comfortable  ?  " 

The  colonel  considered  the  subject  now  in  a 
quieter  mood;  discussed  it  a  little  further;  and 
finally  agreed  to  drive  into  town  and  see  what  he 
could  find  in  the  way  of  a  house. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 
A  HOUSE. 

YET  the  colonel  did  not  go.  Days  passed,  and 
he  did  not  go.  Esther  ventured  some  gentle 
reminders,  which  had  no  effect.  And  the  winter 
was  gone  and  the  spring  was  come,  before  he  made 
the  first  expedition  to  the  city  in  search  of  a  house. 
Once  started  on  his  quest,  it  is  true  the  colonel 
carried  it  on  vigorously,  and  made  many  journeys 
for  it;  but  they  were  all  in  vain.  Rents  in  the  city 
were  found  to  be  so  much  higher  than  rents  in  the 
country,  as  fully  to  neutralize  the  advantage  hoped 
for  in  a  smaller  household  and  the  dismissal  of  the 
horse.  Not  a  dwelling  could  be  found  where  this 
would  not  be  true.  The  search  was  finally  given 
up;  and  things  in  the  little  family  went  on  as  they 
had  been  going  for  some  time  past. 

Esther  at  last,  under  stress  of  necessity,  made 
fresh  representations  to  her  father,  and  besought 
leave  to  give  lessons.  They  were  running  into 
debt,  with  no  means  of  paying.  It  went  sorely 
against  the  grain  with  the  colonel  to  give  his 
consent;  pride  and  tenderness  both  rebelled;  he 

(367) 


268  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

hesitated  long;  but  circumstances  were  too  much 
for  him.  He  yielded  at  last,  not  with  a  groan,  but 
with  many  groans. 

"  I  came  here  to  take  care  of  you,"  he  said;  "and 
this  is  the  end  of  it !  " 

"Don't  take  it  so,  papa,"  cried  Esther.  "I  like 
to  do  it.  It  is  not  a  hardship." 

"  It  is  a  hardship,"  he  retorted ;  "  and  you  will 
find  it  so.  I  find  it  so  now." 

"  Even  so,  papa,"  said  the  girl  with  infinite 
sweetness; — "  suppose  it  be  a  hardship:  The  Lord 
has  given  it  to  me;  and  so  long  as  I  am  sure  it  is 
something  he  has  given,  I  want  no  better.  Indeed, 
papa,  you  know  I  could  have  no  better." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind.  You  are  talking 
folly." 

"  No,  papa,  if  you  please.  Just  remember, — look 
here,  papa, — here  are  the  words.  Listen.  'The 
Lord  God  is  a  sun  and  shield;  the  Lord  will  give 
grace  and  glory ;  no  good  thing  ivill  he  withhold  from 
them  that  walk  uprightly.'  " 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  said  the  colonel 
angrily,  "  that — well,  that  all  the  things  that  you 
have  not  just  now,  and  ought  to  have,  are  not  good 
things?" 

"Not  good  for  me,  or  at  least  not  the  best,  or  I 
should  have  them." 

This  answer  was  with  a  smile  so  absolutely 
shadowless,  that  the  colonel  found  nothing  to  an 
swer  but  a  groan,  which  was  made  up  of  pain  and 
pride  and  pleasure  in  inscrutable  proportions. 


A   HOUSE.  369 

The  next  step  was  to  speak  to  Miss  Fairbairn. 
That  wise  woman  shewed  no  surprise  and  did  not 
distress  Esther  with  any  sympathy;  she  took  it 
as  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  her 
favourite  pupil  should  wish  to  become  a  teacher; 
and  promised  her  utmost  help.  In  her  own  school 
there  was  now  no  longer  any  opening;  that  chance 
was  gone;  but  she  gave  Esther  a  recommendation 
in  person  to  the  principal  of  another  establishment, 
where  in  consequence  Miss  Gainsborough  found 
ready  acceptance. 

And  now  indeed  she  felt  herself  a  stranger,  and 
found  herself  alone.  This  was  a  different  thing 
from  her  first  entering  school  as  a  pupil.  And 
Esther  began  also  presently  to  perceive  that  her 
father  had  not  been  entirely  wrong  in  his  estimate 
of  a  teacher's  position  and  experiences.  It  is  not  a 
path  of  roses,  that  such  a  one  has  to  tread;  and 
even  the  love  she  may  bear  to  those  she  teaches, 
and  even  the  genuine  love  of  teaching  them,  do  not 
avail  to  make  it  so.  Wo  to  the  teacher  who  has 
not  those  two  alleviations  and  helps  to  fall  back 
upon  !  Esther  soon  found  both ;  and  yet,  she  gave 
her  father  credit  for  having  known  more  about  the 
matter  than  she  did.  She  was  truly  alone  now; 
the  children  loved  her,  but  scattered  away  from 
her  as  soon  as  their  tasks  were  done;  her  fellow 
teachers  she  scarcely  saw;  they  were  busy  and 
jaded;  and  with  the  world  outside  of  school  she 
had  nothing  to  do.  She  had  never  had  much  to  do 
with  it;  yet  at  Miss  Fairbairn's  she  had  sometimes 


370  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

a  little  taste  of  society  that  was  of  high  order;  and 
all  in  the  house  had  been  at  least  well  known  to 
her  and  she  to  them,  even  if  no  particular  congeni 
ality  had  drawn  them  together.  She  had  lost  all 
that  now.  And  it  sometimes  came  over  Esther  in 
these  days,  the  thought  of  her  English  aunts  and 
cousins,  as  a  vision  of  strange  pleasantness.  To 
have  plenty  of  friends  and  relations,  of  one's  own 
blood,  and  therefore  inalienable;  well-bred  and  re 
fined  and  cultivated ;  (whereby  I  am  afraid  Esther's 
fancy  made  them  a  multiplication  of  Pitt  Dallas;) — 
it  looked  very  alluring !  She  went  bravely  about 
her  work,  and  did  it  beautifully,  and  was  very  con 
tented  in  it,  and  relieved  to  be  earning  money;  yet 
these  visions  now  and  again  would  come  over  her 
mind,  bringing  a  kind  of  distant  sunshiny  glow 
with  them,  different  from  the  light  that  fell  on 
that  particular  bit  of  life's  pathway  she  was  tread 
ing  just  then.  They  came  and  went;  what  came 
and  did  not  go  was  Esther's  consciousness  that  she 
was  earning  only  a  little  money,  and  that  with  that 
little  she  could  not  clear  off  all  the  debts  that  had 
accrued  and  were  constantly  accruing.  When 
Bhe  had  paid  the  butcher,  the  grocer's  bill  pre 
sented  itself;  and  when  she  had  after  some  delay 
got  rid  of  that,  then  came  the  need  for  a  fresh  sup 
ply  of  coal.  Esther  spent  nothing  on  her  own  dress 
that  she  could  help;  but  her  father's  was  another 
matter,  and  tailor's  charges  she  found  were  heavy. 
She  went  bravely  on ;  she  was  young  and  full  of 
spirit,  and  she  was  a  Christian  and  full  of  confi- 


A   HOUSE.  371 

dence ;  nevertheless  she  did  begin  to  feel  the  worry 
of  these  petty,  gnawing,  money  cares,  which  have 
broken  the  heart  of  so  many  a  woman  before  her. 
Moreover,  another  thing  demanded  consideration. 
It  was  necessary,  now  that  she  had  no  longer  a 
home  with  Miss  Fairbairn,  it  was  necessary  that 
she  should  go  into  town  and  come  back  every  day; 
and,  furthermore,  as  she  was  giving  lessons  in  a 
school,  no  circumstance,  of  weather  or  anything  else, 
must  hinder  her  being  absolutely  punctual.  Yet  Es 
ther  foresaw  that  as  the  winter  came  on  again  it 
would  be  very  difficult  sometimes  to  maintain  this 
punctuality;  and  it  became  clear  to  her  that  it 
would  be  almost  indispensable  for  them  to  move 
into  town.  If  only  a  house  could  be  found  ! 

Meantime  Christopher  went  and  came  about  the 
house;  cultivated  the  garden  and  took  care  of  the 
horse  and  drove  Esther  to  school,  all  just  as  usual; 
his  whilorne  master  never  having  as  yet  said  one 
word  to  him  on  the  subject  of  his  marriage  and 
consequent  departure.  Whether  his  wages  were 
paid  him,  Esther  was  anxiously  doubtful;  but  she 
dared  not  ask.  I  say  "  whilome  "  master,  for  there 
is  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Bounder  in  these  days  felt 
that  nobody  was  his  master  but  himself.  He  did 
all  his  duties  faithfully,  but  then  he  took  leave  to 
cross  the  little  field  which  lay  between  his  old 
home  and  his  new,  and  to  disappear  for  whole 
spaces  of  time  from  the  view  of  the  colonel's 
family. 

It  was  one  evening  in  November.     Mrs.  Barker 


372  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

was  just  sitting  down  to  her  tea,  and  Christopher 
was  preparing  himself  to  leave  her.  I  should  re 
mark  that  Mrs.  Barker  had  called  on  the  former 
Mrs.  Blumenfeld,  and  established  civil  relations 
between  the  houses. 

"  Won't  you  stay,  Christopher  ?  "  asked  his  sister. 

"No  thank  ye.  I've  got  a  little  woman  over 
there,  who's  expecting  me." 

"  Does  she  set  as  good  a  table  for  you  as  I  used 
to  do? — in  those  days  when  I  could,"  the  house 
keeper  added  with  a  sigh. 

"  Well,  she  aint  just  up  to  some  o'  your  arts,"  said 
Christopher,  with  a  contented  face  in  which  his 
blue  eye  twinkled  with  a  little  slyness;  "but  I'll 
tell  you  what,  she  can  cook  a  dish  o'  pot  pie  that 
you  can't  beat,  nor  nobody  else;  and  her  rye  bread 
is  just  uncommon  !  " 

"  Rye  bread !  "  said  the  housekeeper  with  an 
utterance  of  disdain. 

"  I'll  bring  a  loaf  over,"  said  Christopher  nodding 
his  head;  "and  you  can  give  some  to  Miss  Esther 
if  you  like.  Good  night !  " 

He  made  few  steps  of  it  through  the  dark  cold 
evening  to  the  house  that  had  become  his  home. 
The  room  that  received  him  might  have  pleased 
a  more  difficult  man.  It  was  as  clean  as  hands 
could  make  it;  bright  with  cleanliness;  lighted  and 
warmed  with  a  glowing  fire,  and  hopeful  with  a 
most  savoury  scent  of  supper.  The  mistress  of 
the  house  was  busy  about  her  hearth,  looking  neat 
and  comfortable  enough  to  match  her  room.  As 


-  A   HOUSE.  373 

Christopher  came  in  she  lit  a  candle  that  stood  on 
the  supper  table.  Christopher  hugged  himself  at 
this  instance  of  his  wife's  thrift,  and  sat  down. 

44  You've  got  something  that  smells  uncommon 
good  there  ! "  said  he  approvingly. 

"  I  allays  du  think  a  hot  supper's  comfortable  at 
the  end  o'  a  cold  day,"  returned  the  new  Mrs. 
Bounder.  "  I  don't  care  what  I  du  as  long's  I'm 
busy  with  all  the  world  all  the  day  long;  I  kin  take 
a  piece  and  a  bite  and  go  on;  but  when  it  comes 
night,  and  I  hev  time  to  think  I'm  tired,  then  I 
like  a  good  hot  something  or  other/' 

"  What  have  you  got  there  ?  "  said  Christopher, 
peering  over  at  the  dish  on  the  hearth  which  Mrs. 
Bounder  was  filling  from  a  pot  before  the  fire. 
She  laughed. 

"  You  wouldn't  be  any  wiser  ef  I  told  you.  It's 
a  little  o'  everything.  Give  me  a  good  garden,  and 
I  kin  live  as  well  as  I  want  to,  and  cost  no  one 
more'n  a  few  shillin's,  neither.  'Taint  difficult,  ef 
you  know  how.  Now  see  what  you  say  to  that." 

She  dished  up  her  supper,  put  a  plate  of  green 
pickles  on  the  table,  filled  up  her  tea-pot,  and  cut 
some  slices  from  a  beautiful  brown  loaf,  which  must 
have  rivalled  the  rye  though  it  was  not  that  colour. 
Christopher  sat  down,  said  grace  reverently,  and 
attacked  the  viands;  while  the  mistress  poured  him 
out  a  cup  of  tea. 

"  Christopher,"  she  said  as  she  handed  it  to  him, 
"I'd  jes'  like  to  ask  you  something." 

44  What  is  it?" 


374  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  jes'  why  you  go  through  that 
performance  ?  " 

"  Performance  ?  "  echoed  Christopher.  "  What 
are  you  talkin'  about  ?  " 

"I  mean,  that  bit  of  a  prayer  you  think  it  is  right 
to  make,  whenever  you're  goin'  to  put  your  fork  to 
your  mouth." 

"Oh! — I  couldn't  imagine  what  you  were  driv 
ing  at.  Why  do  I  do  it  ?  "— 

"I'd  like  to  know,  ef  you  think  you  kin  tell." 

"  Respectable  folks  always  does  it." 

"  Hm  !  I  don'  know  about  that.  So  it's  for  re 
spectability  you  keep  it  up  ?  " 

"  No,-"  said  Christopher  a  little  embarrassed  how 
to  answer.  "It's  proper.  Don't  you  know  the 
Bible  bids  us  give  thanks  ?  " 

"Wall,  hev  you  set  out  to  du  all  the  rest  o'  the 
things  the  Bible  bids  you  du? — that's  jes'  what  I'm 
comin'  to." 

A  surly  man  would  not  perhaps  have  answered 
at  all,  resenting  this  catechizing;  but  Christopher 
was  not  surly,  and  not  at  all  offended.  He  was 
perplexed  a  little ;  looked  at  his  wife  in  some  sly 
wonder  at  her,  but  answered  not. 

"  Ef  I  began,  I'd  go  through.  I  wouldn't  make 
no  half  way  with  it;  that's  all  I  was  goin'  to  say," 
his  wife  went  on,  with  a  grave  face  that  shewed 
she  was  not  jesting. 

"  It's  saying  a  good  deal !  "  remarked  Christopher, 
still  looking  at  her. 

"  It's  sayin'  a  good  deal,  to  make  the  first  prayer; 


A   HOUSE.  375 

but  ef  I  made  the  first  one,  I'd  make  all  the  rest. 
I  don't  abide  no  half  work  in  my  garden,  Christo 
pher  ;  that's  what  I  was  thinkin' ;  and  I  don't  be 
lieve  Him  you  pray  to  likes  it  no  better." 

Christopher  was  utterly  unprepared  to  go  on 
with  this  subject;  and  finally  gave  up  trying,  and 
attended  to  his  supper.  After  a  little  while  his 
wife  struck  a  new  theme.  She  was  not  a  trained 
rhetorician;  but  when  she  had  said  what  she  had 
to  say  she  was  always  contented  to  stop. 

"  How  are  things  going  up  your  way  to-day  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  My  way  is  down  here,  I'm  happy  to  say." 

"Wall,  up  to  the  colonel's,  then.  What's  the 
news?" 

"Aint  no  sort  o'  news.  Never  is.  They're  al 
ways  at  the  old  things.  The  colonel  he  lies  on  his 
sofy,  and  Miss  Esther  she  goes  and  comes.  They 
want  to  get  a  house  in  town,  now  she's  goin'  so 
regular;  only  they  can't  find  one  to  fit." 

'•  Kint  find  a  house  ?  I  thought  there  was  houses 
enough,  in  all  New  York." 

"  Houses  enough,  but  they  all  is  set  up  so  high 
in  their  rents,  you  see." 

"  Is  that  the  trouble  ? " 

"  That  is  exactly  the  trouble ;  and  Miss  Esther,  I 
can  see  she  doesn't  know  just  what  to  do." 

"They  aint  gittin'  along  well,  Christopher?" 

"  Well,  there  is  no  doubt  they  aint !  I  should  say 
they  was  gettin'  on  uncommon  bad.  Don't  seem 
as  if  they  could  any  way  pay  up  all  their  bills  at 


376  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

once.  They  pay  this  man,  and  then  run  up  a  new 
score  with  some  other  man.  Miss  Esther,  she  tries 
all  she  knows;  but  there  aint  no  one  to  help  her." 

"They  git  this  house  cheaper  than  they'd  git  any 
one  in  town,  I  guess.  They'd  best  stay  where  they 
be." 

"Yes,  but  you  see,  Miss  Esther  has  to  go  and 
come  every  day  now;  she's  teachin'  in  a  school, 
that's  what  she  is,"  said  Christopher,  letting  his 
voice  drop  as  if  he  were  speaking  of  some  desecra 
tion.  "That's  what  she  is;  and  so  she  has  to  be 
there  regular,  rain  or  shine  makes  no  difference. 
An'  if  they  was  in  town,  you  see,  they  wouldn't 
want  the  horse,  nor  me." 

"  You  don't  cost  'em  nothin' ! "  returned  Mrs. 
Bounder. 

"No;  but  they  don't  know  that;  and  if  they 
knowed  it,  you  see,  there'd  be  the  devil  to  pay." 

"  I  wouldn't  give  myself  bad  names,  ef  I  was 
you,"  remarked  Mrs.  Bounder  quietly.  "Chris 
topher—" 

"What  then?" 

"  I'm  jes'  thinkin' — " 

"  What  are  you  thinkin'  about  ?  " 

"  Jes'  you  wait  till  I  know  myself,  and  I'll  tell 

ye." 

Christopher  was  silent,  watching  from  time  to 
time  his  spouse,  who  seemed  to  be  going  on  with 
her  supper  in  orderly  fashion.  Mr.  Bounder  was 
not  misled  by  this,  and  watched  curiously.  He 
had  acquired  in  a  few  months  a  large  respect  for 


A   HOUSE.  377 

his  wife.  Her  very  unadorned  attire  and  her  pe 
culiar  way  of  knotting  up  her  hair,  did  not  hinder 
that  he  had  a  great  and  growing  value  for  her. 
Christopher  would  have  liked  her  certainly  to  dress 
better  and  to  put  on  a  cap;  nevertheless,  and  odd 
as  it  may  seem,  he  was  learning  to  be  proud  of  his 
very  independent  wife,  and  even  boasted  to  his 
sister  that  she  was  a  "character."  Now  he  waited 
for  what  was  to  come  next. 

"  I  guess  I  was  a  fool,"  began  Mrs.  Bounder  at 
last.  "But  it  came  into  my  head,  ef  they're  in 
such  a  fix  as  you  say,  whether  maybe  they  wouldn't 
take  up  with  my  house.  I  guess,  hardly  likely." 

"  Tour  house?  "  inquired  Christopher  in  astonish 
ment.  But  his  wife  calmly  nodded. 

"  Your  house  !  "  repeated  Christopher.  "  Which 
one?" 

"Wall,  not  this  one,  I  guess,"  said  his  wife 
quietly.  "  But  I've  got  one  in  town." 

"A  house  in  town!  Why  I  never  heard  of  it 
before." 

"  No,  'cause  it's  been  standin'  empty  for  a  spell 
back ;  doin'  nothin'.  Ef  there  had  been  rent  comin' 
in,  I  guess  you'd  have  heard  of  it.  But  the  last 
folks  went  out;  and  I  hadn't  found  no  one  that 
suited  me  to  let  hev  it." 

"  Would  it  do  for  the  colonel  and  Miss  Esther  ?  " 

"That's  jes'  what  I  don'  know,  Christopher.  It 
would  du  as  fur's  the  rent  goes;  an'  it's  all  right 
and  tight.  It  won't  let  the  rain  in  on  'em;  I've 
kep'  it  in  order." 


378  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"I  should  like  to  see  what  you  don't  keep  in 
order !  "  said  Christopher  admiringly. 

"Wall,  I  guess  it's  my  imagination.  For  come 
to  think  of  it,  it  aint  jes'  sich  a  house  as  your  folks 
are  accustomed  to." 

"The  thing  is,"  said  Christopher  gravely,  "they 
can't  have  just  what  they're  accustomed  to.  Least 
ways  I'm  afeard  they  can't.  I'll  just  speak  to  Miss 
Esther  about  it." 

"  Wall,  you  kin  du  that.  'Twon't  du  no  harm. 
I  allays  think,  when  anybody's  grown  poor  he'd 
best  take  in  his  belt  a  little." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

MAJOR    STREET. 

A  CCORDING  to  the  conclusion  thus  arrived  at, 
11  Christopher  took  the  opportunity  of  speaking 
to  Esther  the  very  next  time  he  was  driving  her 
in  from  school.  Esther  immediately  pricked  up 
her  ears,  and  demanded  to  know  where  the  house 
was  situated.  Christopher  told  her.  It  was  a  street 
she  was  not  acquainted  with. 

"Do  you  know  how  to  find  the  place,  Christopher?" 

"  0  yes,  Miss  Esther ;  I  can  find  the  place  to  be 
sure;  but  I'm  afraid  my  little  woman  has  made  a 
mistake." 

"What  is  the  rent?" 

Christopher  named  the  rent.  It  was  less  than 
what  they  were  paying  for  the  house  they  at  present 
occupied;  and  Esther  at  once  ordered  Christopher 
to  turn  about  and  drive  her  to  the  spot. 

It  was  certainly  not  a  fashionable  quarter,  not 
even  near  Broadway  or  State  St.;  nevertheless  it 
was  respectable,  inhabited  by  decent  people.  The 
house  itself  was  a  small  wooden  one.  Now  it  is 

true  that  at  that  day  New  York  was  a  very  dif- 

(379) 


380  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

ferent  place  from  what  it  is  at  present;  and  a 
wooden  house,  and  even  a  small  wooden  house,  did 
not  mean  then  what  it  means  now;  an  abode  of 
Irish  washerwomen  or  of  something  still  less  dis 
tinguished.  Yet'  Esther  startled  a  little  at  the 
thought  of  bringing  her  father  and  herself  to  in 
habit  it.  Christopher  had  the  key;  and  he  fas 
tened  Buonaparte  and  let  her  in,  and  went  all  over 
the  house  with  her.  It  was  in  order  truly,  as  its 
owner  had  said ;  even  clean ;  and  nothing  was  off 
the  hinges  or  wanting  paint  or  needing  plaster. 
"Right  and  tight"  it  was,  and  susceptible  of  being' 
made  an  abode  of  comfort;  yet  it  was  a  very  hum. 
ble  dwelling,  comparatively,  and  in  an  insignifi 
cant  neighbourhood;  and  Esther  hesitated.  Was 
it  pride?  she  asked  herself.  Why  did  she  hesitate? 
Yet  she  lingered  over  the  place,  doubting  and  ques 
tioning  and  almost  deciding  it  would  not  do.  Then 
Christopher,  I  cannot  tell  whether  consciously  or 
otherwise,  threw  in  a  makeweight  that  fell  in  the 
scale  that  was  threatening  to  rise. 

"  If  you  please,  Miss  Esther,  would  you  speak 
to  the  master  about  the  blacksmith's  bill  ?  I  don't 
hardly  never  see  the  colonel,  these  days." 

Esther  faced  round  upon  him.  The  word  "  bill " 
always  came  to  her  now  like  a  sort  of  stab.  She 
repeated  his  words.  "  The  blacksmith's  bill  ? — " 

"Yes,  mum;  that  is  Creasy,  the  blacksmith ;  just 
on  the  edge  o'  the  town.  It's  been  runnin'  along, 
'cause  I  never  could  get  sight  o'  the  colonel  to 
speak  to  him  about  it." 


MAJOR  STREET.  381 

"Bill  for  what?" 

"  Shoes,  mum." 

"Shoes?"  repeated  Esther.  "The  blacksmith? 
what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Shoes  for  Buonaparty,  mum.  He  does  kick  off 
his  shoes  as  fast  as  any  horse  ever  I  see;  and  they 
does  wear,  mum,  on  the  stones." 

"How  much  is  the  bill?" 

"Well,  mum,"  said  Christopher  uneasily,  "it's 
been  runnin'  along — and  it's  astonishin'  how  things 
does  mount  up.  It's  quite  a  good  bit,  mum;  it's 
nigh  on  to  fifty  dollars." 

It  took  away  Esther's  breath.  She  turned  away, 
that  Christopher  might  not  see  her  face,  and  began 
to  look  at  the  house  as  if.  a  sudden  new  light  had 
fallen  upon  it.  Small  and  mean,  and  unfit  for  Col. 
Gainsborough  and  his  daughter, — that  had  been 
her  judgment  concerning  it  five  minutes  before; 
but  now  it  suddenly  presented  itself  as  a  refuge 
from  distress.  If  they  took  it,  the  relief  to  their 
finances  would  be  immediate  and  effectual.  There 
was  a  little  bit  of  struggle  in  Esther's  mind;  to 
give  up  their  present  home  for  this  would  involve 
a  loss  of  all  the  prettiness  in  which  she  had  found 
such  refreshment;  there  would  be  here  no  river 
and  no  opposite  shore,  and  no  pleasant  country 
around  with  grass  and  trees  and  a  flower  garden. 
There  would  be  no  garden  at  all,  and  no  view,  ex 
cept  of  a  very  humdrum  little  street,  built  up  and 
inhabited  by  mechanics  and  tradespeople  of  a  hum 
ble  grade.  But  then — no  debt!  And  Esther  re- 


382  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

membered  that  in  her  daily  prayer  for  daily  bread 
she  had  also  asked  to  be  enabled  to  "owe  no  man 
anything."  Was  here  the  answer  ?  And  if  this 
were  the  Lord's  way  for  supplying  her  necessities, 
should  she  refuse  to  accept  it  and  to  be  thankful 
for  it? 

"  It  is  getting  late,"  was  Esther's  conclusion  as 
she  turned  away.  "  We  had  better  get  home, 
Christopher;  but  I  think  we  will  take  the  house. 
I  must  speak  to  papa ;  but  I  think  we  will  take  it. 
You  may  tell  Mrs.  Bounder  so,  with  my  thanks." 

It  cost  a  little  trouble,  yet  not  much,  to  talk  the 
colonel  over.  He  did  not  go  to  see  the  house,  and 
Esther  did  not  press  that  he  should ;  he  took  her 
report  of  it,  which  was  an  unvarnished  one,  and 
submitted  himself  to  what  seemed  the  inevitable. 
But  his  daughter  knew  that  her  task  would  have 
been  harder  if  the  colonel's  imagination  had  had 
the  assistance  of  his  eyesight.  She  was  sure  that 
the  move  must  be  made,  and  if  it  were  once  effected 
she  was  almost  sure  she  could  make  her  father  com 
fortable.  To  combat  his  objections  beforehand, 
might  have  been  a  more  difficult  matter.  Esther 
found  Mrs.  Barker's  dismay  quite  enough  to  deal 
with.  Indeed  the  good  woman  was  at  first  over 
whelmed;  and  sat  down,  the  first  time  she  was 
taken  to  the  house,  in  a  sort  of  despair,  with  a  face 
wan  in  its  anxiety. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Barker  ?  "  Esther  said  cheer 
ily.  "You  and  I  will  soon  put  this  in  nice  order, 
with  Christopher's  help ;  and  then,  when  we  have 


MAJOR  STREET.  383 

got  it  fitted  up,  we  shall  be  as  comfortable  as  ever; 
you  will  see." 

"0  dear  Miss  Esther!"  the  housekeeper  ejacu 
lated  ! — "  That  ever  I  should  see  this  day  ! — The 
like  of  you  and  my  master !  " — 

"What  then?"  said  Esther  smiling.  "Barker, 
shall  we  not  take  what  the  Lord  gives  us  ? — and 
be  thankful  ?  I  am." 

"There  aint  no  use  for  Christopher  here,  as  I 
see,"  Mrs.  Barker  went  on. 

"No,  and  he  will  not  be  here.  Do  you  see 
now  how  happy  it  is  that  he  has  got  a  home  of 
his  own  ? — which  you  were  disposed  to  think  so 
unfortunate." 

"I  haven't  changed  my  mind,  mum,"  said  the 
housekeeper.  "  How's  your  horse  goin'  to  be  kep', 
without  Christopher  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  going  to  keep  the  horse.  Here  I  shall 
not  need  him." 

"The  drives  you  took  was  very  good  for  you, 
mum." 

"  I  will  take  walks  instead.  Don't  you  be  trou 
bled.  Dear  Barker,  do  you  not  think  our  dear 
Lord  knows  what  is  good  for  us  ?  and  do  you  not 
think  what  he  chooses  is  the  best  ?  I  do." 

Esther's  face  was  very  unshadowed,  but  the 
housekeeper's  on  the  contrary  seemed  to  darken 
more  and  more.  She  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  in  one  of  the  small  rooms,  and  surveyed  the 
prospect,  alternately  within  and  without  the  win 
dows. 


384  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Miss  Esther,  dear,"  she  began  again  as  if  irre- 
pressibly,  "you're  young,  and  you  don't  know  how 
queer  the  world  is.  There's  many  folks,  that  won't 
believe  you  are  what  you  be,  if  they  see  you  are 
livin'  in  a  place  like  this." 

Did  not  Esther  know  that?  and  was  it  not  one  of 
the  whispers  in  her  mind  which  she  found  it  hard 
est  to  combat  ?  She  had  begun  already  to  touch 
the  world  on  that  side  on  which  Barker  declared  it 
was  "  queer."  She  went,  it  is  true,  hardly  at  all  into 
society;  scarce  ever  left  the  narrow  track  of  her 
school  routine;  yet  even  there  once  or  twice  a 
chance  encounter  had  obliged  her  to  recognize  the 
fact  that  in  taking  the  post  of  a  teacher  she  had 
stepped  off  the  level  of  her  former  associates.  It 
had  hurt  her  a  little  and  disappointed  her.  No 
body  indeed  had  tried  to  be  patronizing;  that  was 
nearly  impossible  towards  anybody  whose  head 
was  set  on  her  shoulders  in  the  manner  of  Miss 
Gainsborough's;  but  she  felt  the  slighting  regard 
in  which  low-bred  people  held  her  on  account  of 
her  work  and  position.  And  so  large  a  portion 
of  the  world  is  deficient  in  breeding,  that  to  a 
young  person  at  least  the  desire  of  self-assertion 
comes  as  a  very  natural  and  tolerably  strong  temp 
tation.  Esther  had  felt  it,  and  trodden  it  under 
foot,  and  yet  Mrs.  Barker's  words  made  her  wince. 
How  could  anybody  reasonably  suppose  that  a 
gentleman  would  choose  such  a  house  and  such  a 
street  to  live  in  ? 

"  Never  mind,  Barker,"  she  said  cheerfully  after 


MAJOR  STREET.  385 

a  pause.  "  What  we  have  to  do  is  the  right  thing; 
and  then  let  all  the  rest  go." 

"  Has  the  colonel  seen  it,  Miss  Esther  ?  " 

"No,  and  I  do  riot  mean  he  shall,  till  we  have 
got  it  so  nice  for  him  that  he  will  feel  comfor 
table." 

The  work  of  moving  and  getting  settled  began 
without  delay.  Mrs.  Barker  spent  all  the  after 
noons  at  the  new  house;  and  thither  came  Es 
ther  also  every  day  as  soon  as  school  was  out  at 
three  o'clock.  The  girl  worked  very  hard  in  these 
times;  for  after  her  long  morning  in  school  she 
gave  the  rest  of  the  daylight  hours  to  arranging 
and  establishing  furniture,  hanging  draperies,  put 
ting  up  hooks,  and  the  like;  and  after  that  she 
went  home  to  make  her  father's  tea,  and  give  him 
as  much  cheery  talk  as  she  could  command.  In 
the  business  of  moving  however,  she  found  unex 
pected  assistance. 

When  Christopher  told  his  wife  of  the  decision 
about  the  house,  the  answering  remark,  made  ap 
provingly,  was,  "  That's  a  spunky  little  girl !" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  said  Christopher,  not 
approving  such  an  irreverent  expression. 

"  She's  got  stuff  in  her.     I  like  that  sort." 

"  But  that  house  aint  really  a  place  for  her,  you 
know." 

"  That's  what  I'm  lookin'  at,"  returned  Mrs.  Boun 
der  with  a  broad  smile  at  him.  "  She  aint  scared 
by  no  nonsense  from  duin'  what  she's  got  to  du. 
Don't  you  be  scared  neither;  houses  don't  make 


386  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

the  folks  that  live  in  'em.  But  what  I'm  thinkin' 
of  is,  they'll  want  lots  o'  help  to  git  along  with 
their  movin'.  Christopher,  do  you  know  there's  a 
big  box  waggin  in  the  barn  ?  " 

"  I  know  it." 

"  Wall,  that'll  carry  their  things  fust  rate,  ef  you 
kin  tackle  up  your  fine-steppin'  French  emperor 
there  with  our  Dolly.  Will  he  draw  in  double 
harness  ?  " 

"  Will  he !     Well,  I'll  try  to  persaude  him." 

"An'  you  needn't  to  let  on  anything  about  it. 
They  aint  obleeged  to  know  where  the  waggin 
comes  from." 

"  You're  as  clever  a  woman  as  any  I  know !  " 
said  Mr.  Bounder  with  a  smile  of  complacency. 
"Sally  up  there  can't  beat  you;  and  she 8  a  smart 
woman  too." 

A  few  minutes  were  given  to  the  business  of  the 
supper  table,  and  then  Mrs.  Bounder  asked, 

"What  are  they  goin'  to  du  with  the  French 
emperor  ?  " 

"  Buonaparte  ?  "  (Christopher  called  it  "  Buona- 
party.")  "  Well,  they'll  have  to  get  rid  of  him 
somehow.  I  suppose  that  job'll  come  on  me." 

"  I  was  thinkin'.     Our  Dolly's  gittin  old — " 

"  Buonaparty  was  old  some  time  ago,"  returned 
Christopher  with  a  sly  twinkle  of  his  eyes  as  he 
looked  at  his  wife. 

"  There's  work  in  him  yet,  aint  there  ?  " 

"Lots!" 

"Then  two  old  ones  would  be  as  good  as  one 


MAJOR  STREET.  387 

young  one ;  and  better,  for  they'd  draw  the  double 
waggin.  What'll  they  ask  for  him  ?  " 

"  It'll  be  what  I  can  get,  I'm  thinking." 

"  What  did  you  pay  for  him  ?  " 

Christopher  named  the  sum  the  colonel  had 
given.  It  was  not  a  high  figure;  however,  he 
knew,  and  she  knew,  that  a  common  draught  horse 
for  their  garden  work  could  be  had  for  something 
less.  Mrs.  Bounder  meditated  a  little,  and  finally 
concluded, 

"  It  won't  break  us." 

"Save  me  lots  o'  trouble,"  said  Christopher;  "if 
you  don't  mind  paying  so  much." 

"  If  you  don't  mind,  Christopher,"  his  wife  re 
turned  with  a  grin.  "  I've  got  the  money  here  in 
the  house;  you  might  hand  it  over  to  Miss  Esther 
to-morrow;  I'll  bet  you  she'll  know  what  to  du 
with  it." 

Christopher  nodded.  "  She'll  be  uncommon  glad 
of  it,  to  be  sure !  There  aint  much  cash  come  into 
her  hands  for  a  good  bit.  And  I  see  sometimes 
she's  been  real  woritted." 

So  Esther's  path  was  smoothed  in  more  ways  than 
one ;  and  even  in  more  ways  than  I  have  indicated. 
For  Mrs.  Bounder  went  over  and  insinuated  her 
self  (with  some  difficulty)  so  far  into  Mrs.  Barker's 
good  graces  that  she  was  allowed  to  give  her  help 
in  the  multifarious  business  and  cares  of  the  mov 
ing.  She  was  capital  help.  Mrs.  Barker  soon 
found  that  any  packing  intrusted  to  her  was  sure 
to  be  safely  done ;  and  the  little  woman's  wits  were 


388  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

of  the  first  order,  always  at  hand,  cool,  keen,  and 
comprehensive.  She  followed,  or  rather  went  with 
the  wagon  to  the  house  in  Major  St. ;  helped  unpack, 
helped  put  down  carpets,  helped  clear  away  litter 
and  arrange  things  in  order;  and  further  still,  she 
constantly  brought  something  with  her  for  the 
bodily  refreshment  and  comfort  of  Esther  and  the 
housekeeper.  Her  delicious  rye  bread  came,  loaf 
after  loaf;  sweet  butter;  eggs;  and  at  last  some 
golden  honey.  There  was  no  hindering  her;  and 
her  presence  and  ministry  grew  to  be  a  great  assist 
ance  and  pleasure  also  to  Esther.  Esther  tried  to 
tell  her  something  of  this.  "  You  canaot  think 
how  your  kindness  has  helped  me,"  she  said,  with 
a  look  which  told  more  than  her  words. 

"  Don't ! "  said  Mrs.  Bounder,  when  this  had 
happened  a  second  time.  "I  was  readin'  in  the 
Bible  the  other  day, — you  set  me  to  readin'  the 
Bible,  Miss  Esther, — where  it  says  somethin'  about 
a  good  woman  *  ministerin'  to  the  saints.'  I  aint 
no  saint  myself,  and  I  guess  it'll  never  be  said  of 
me;  but  I  suppose  the  next  thing  to  bein'  a  saint 
is  ministerin'  to  the  saints ;  and  I'd  like  to  du  that 
anyhow,  ef  I  only  knowed  how." 

"  You  have  been  kind  ever  since  I  knew  you," 
said  Esther.  "  I  am  glad  to  know  our  Christopher 
has  got  such  a  good  wife." 

Mrs.  Bounder  laughed  a  little  slyly,  as  she  re 
torted, — "  Aint  there  nothin'  to  be  glad  of  on  my 
sidetu?" 

"  Indeed,  yes !  "  answered  Esther.     "  Christopher 


MAJOR  STREET.  389 

is  as  true  and  faithful  as  it  is  possible  to  be; 
and  as  to  business— But  you  do  not  need  that  I 
should  tell  you  what  Christopher  is,"  she  broke  off 
laughing. 

There  was  a  pleasant  look  in  the  little  woman's 
eyes  as  she  stood  up  for  a  moment  and  faced 
Esther. 

"  I  guess  I  took  him  most  of  all  because  he  be 
longed  to  you  1 "  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

MOVING. 

T^STHER  made  to  herself  a  pleasure  of  getting 
-L/  the  little  dwelling  in  order.  With  two  such 
helpers  as  she  had,  the  work  went  on  bravely ;  and 
Christopher  got  in  coal  and  chopped  wood  enough 
to  last  all  winter.  The  ready  money  from  the  sale 
of  Buonaparte  had  given  her  the  means  for  that  and 
for  some  other  things.  She  was  intent  upon  mak 
ing  the  new  home  look  so  homelike  that  her  father 
should  be  in  some  measure  consoled  for  the  shock 
which  she  knew  its  exterior  would  give  him.  The 
colonel  liked  no  fire  so  well  as  one  of  his  native 
"  sea-coal."  The  house  had  open  fireplaces  only. 
So  Esther  had  some  neat  grates  put  in  the  two 
lower  rooms  and  in  her  father's  sleeping  chamber. 
They  had  plenty  of  carpets;  and  the  two  little 
parlours  were  soon  looking  quite  habitable. 

"  We  will  keep  the  back  one  for  a  dining  room," 
she  said  to  Mrs.  Barker ;  "  that  will  be  convenient 
for  you,  being  nearest  the  kitchen  stairs ;  and  this 
will  be  for  papa's  study.  But  it  has  a  bare  look 
yet.  I  must  make  some  curtains  and  put  up,  to 
hide  the  view  of  that  dreadful  street." 
(390) 


MOVING.  391 

"  That'll  cost  money,  mum,"  observed  the  house 
keeper.  "  Wouldn't  some  o'  them  old  ones  at  home 
be  passable,  if  they  was  made  over  a  bit  ?  " 

"The  colour  would  not  fit  here.  No,  that  would 
not  do.  I'll  get  some  chintz  that  is  dark  and  bright 
at  once.  I  have  money.  O  we  are  going  to  be 
rich  now,  Barker;  and  you  shall  not  be  stinted 
in  your  marketing  any  more.  And  this  is  going 
to  be  very  nice,  inside" 

To  the  outside  Esther  could  not  get  accustomed. 
It  gave  her  a  kind  of  prick  of  dismay  every  time 
she  saw  it  anew.  What  would  her  father  say  when 
/iesawit?  Yet  she  had  done  right,  and  wisely; 
of  that  she  had  no  doubt  at  all ;  it  was  very  unreason 
able  that,  her  judgment  being  satisfied,  her  feeling 
should  rebel.  Yet  it  did  rebel.  When  did  ever 
one  of  her  family  live  in  such  a  place  before  ?  They 
had  come  down  surely  very  far,  to  have  it  possible. 
Only  in  the  matter  of  money,  to  be  sure;  but  then, 
money  has  to  do  largely  with  the  outward  appear 
ance  one  makes,  and  upon  the  appearance  depends 
much  of  the  effect  upon  one's  fellow  creatures. 
The  whisper  would  come  back  in  Esther's  mind, — 
Who  will  believe  you  are  what  you  are,  if  they  see 
you  coming  out  of  such  a  house  ?  And  what  then  ? 
she  answered  the  whisper.  If  the  Lord  has  given 
us  this  place  to  dwell  in,  that  and  all  other  effects 
and  consequences  of  it  are  part  of  his  will  in  the 
matter.  What  if  we  are  to  be  overlooked  and  looked 
down  upon  ?  what  have  I  to  do  with  it?  what  matters 
it  ?  Let  pride  be  quiet,  and  faith  be  very  thankful. 


392  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Here  are  all  my  difficulties  set  aside,  and  no  dan 
ger  of  not  paying  our  debts  any  more. 

She  reasoned  so,  and  fought  against  pride,  if 
pride  it  were,  which  took  the  other  side.  She 
would  be  thankful ;  and  she  was.  Nevertheless,  a 
comparison  would  arise  now  and  then  with  the 
former  times,  and  with  their  state  at  Seaforth ;  and 
further  back  still,  with  the  beauties  and  glories  of 
the  old  manor  house  in  England.  Sometimes  Esther 
felt  a  strange  wave  of  regret  come  over  her  at  the 
thought  of  the  gay  circle  of  relations  she  did  not 
know,  who  were  warm  in  the  shelter  of  prosperity 
and  the  cheer  of  numbers.  She  knew  herself  in 
a  better  shelter,  yes,  and  in  a  better  cheer;  and 
yet  sometimes  as  I  said  an  odd  feeling  of  loss  and 
descent  would  come  over  her  as  she  entered  Major 
St.  Esther  was  working  hard  these  days,  which  no 
doubt  had  something  to  do  with  this.  She  rushed 
from  her  morning  duties  to  the  school ;  then  at  three 
o'clock  rushed  to  Major  St. ;  and  from  there,  when 
it  grew  too  dark  to  work,  drove  home  to  minister 
to  her  father.  Probably  her  times  of  discourage 
ment  were  times  when  she  was  a  little  tired.  The 
thought  was  very  far  from  her  usually.  In  her  healthy 
and  happy  youth,  busy  life,  and  mental  and  spirit 
ual  growth  and  thrift,  Esther's  wants  seemed  to  be 
all  satisfied;  and  so  long  as  things  ran  their  ordi 
nary  course  she  felt  no  deficiency.  But  there  are 
conditions  in  which  one  is  warm  so  long  as  one  does 
not  move,  while  the  first  stir  of  change  brings  a 
chill  over  one.  And  so  sometimes  now,  as  Esther 


MOVING.  393 

entered  Major  St.  or  set  her  face  towards  it,  she 
would  think  of  her  far-off  circle  of  Gainsborough 
consins;  with  a  half  wish  that  her  father  could  have 
borne  with  them  a  little  more  patiently;  and  once 
or  twice  the  thought  came  too,  that  the  Dallases 
never  let  themselves  be  heard  from  any  more.  Not 
even  Pitt.  She  would  not  have  thought  it  of  him ; 
but  he  was  away  in  a  foreign  country  and  it  must 
be  that  he  had  forgotten  them.  His  father  and 
mother  were  near,  and  could  not  forget;  was  not 
the  old  house  there  before  them  always  to  remind 
them?  But  they  were  rich  and  prosperous  and 
abounding  in  everything;  they  had  no  need  of  the 
lonely  two  who  had  gone  out  of  their  sight  and 
who  did  need  them.  It  was  the  way  of  the  world ; 
so  the  world  said.  Esther  wondered  if  that  were 
really  true;  and  also  wondered  now  and  then  if 
Major  St.  were  to  be  henceforth  not  only  the  sphere 
but  the  limit  of  her  existence.  She  never  gave 
such  thoughts  harbour ;  they  came  and  they  went ; 
and  she  remained  the  cheerful,  brave,  busy  girl  she 
had  long  been. 

The  small  house  at  last  looked  homelike.  On  the 
front  room  Esther  had  put  a  warm,  dark  looking 
carpet ;  the  chintz  curtains  were  up  and  in  harmony 
with  the  carpet;  and  the  colonel's  lounge  was  new 
covered  with  the  same  stuff.  The  old  furniture  had 
been  arranged  so  as  to  give  that  pleasant  cosy  air  to 
the  room  which  is  such  a  welcome  to  the  person 
entering  it ;  making  the  impression  of  comfort  and 
good  taste  and  of  the  habit  of  good  living;  not  good 


394  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

living  in  matters  of  the  table  but  in  those  other 
matters  which  concern  the  mind's  nourishment  and 
social  well-being.  Everything  was  right  and  in 
order,  and  Esther  surveyed  her  work  with  much 
content. 

"  It  looks  very  nice,"  she  said  to  her  good  friend 
the  housekeeper. 

"It.  do,  mum,"  Mrs.  Barker  answered  with  a 
reservation.  "But  I'm  thinkin',  Miss  Esther,  I 
can't  stop  thinkin', — whatever'll  the  colonel  say 
when  he  sees  the  outside !  " 

"  He  shall  see  the  inside  first.  I  have  arranged 
that.  And  Barker,  we  must  have  a  capital  supper 
ready  for  him.  We  can  afford  it  now.  Have  a 
pheasant,  Barker ;  there  is  nothing  he  likes  better ; 
and  some  of  that  beautiful  honey  Mrs.  Bounder  has 
brought  us ;  I  never  saw  such  rich  honey,  I  think. 
And  I  have  good  hope  papa  will  be  pleased,  and 
put  up  with  things;  as  I  do." 

"Tour  papa  remembers  Gainsborough  Manor, 
mum,  and  that's  what  you  don't." 

"  What  then  ?  Mrs.  Barker,  do  you  really  think 
the  Lord  does  not  know  what  is  good  for  us  ?  That 
is  sheer  unbelief.  Take  what  he  gives,  and  be 
thankful.  Barker,  why  do  you  suppose  the  angels 
came  to  the  sepulchre  so,  as  they  did  the  morning 
of  the  resurrection  ?  " 

"  Mum  !  " — said  Mrs.  Barker,  quite  taken  aback 
by  this  sudden  change  of  subject.  But  Esther 
went  on  in  a  pleasant,  pleased  tone  of  interest. 

"  I  was  reading  the  last  chapter  of  Matthew  this 


MOVING.  395 

morning,  and  it  set  me  to  thinking.  You  know  a 
number  of  them,  the  angels,  came,  and  were  seen 
about  the  sepulchre;  and  I  suppose  there  was  just 
a  crowd  of  them  coming  and  going  that  morning. 
What  for,  do  you  suppose  ?  " 

"Miss  Esther!"  said  the  housekeeper  open  mouthed, 
— "  I'm  sure  I  can't  say." 

"Why  they  came  to  see  the  place,  Barker;  just  for 
that.  They  knew  what  had  been  done,  and  they 
just  came  in  crowds,  as  soon  as  Jesus  had  left  the 
sepulchre — perhaps  before — to  look  at  the  spot 
where  that  wonder  of  all  wonders  had  been.  But 
it  never  occurred  to  me  before  how  like  it  was  to 
the  way  we  human  creatures  feel  and  do.  That 
was  what  they  came  for;  and  don't  you  remember 
what  one  of  them,  with  his  lightning  face  and  his 
robes  of  whiteness,  sitting  on  the  stone,  said  to  the 
women  ?  He  told  them  to  do  what  he  had  been 
doing.  'Come  see  the  place.' — It  brought  the  angels 
nearer  to  me  than  ever  they  had  seemed  to  be 
before." 

Mrs.  Barker  stood  there  spell-bound,  silenced. 
To  be  sure,  if  Miss  Esther's  head  was  so  busy  with 
the  angels,  she  was  in  a  sort  lifted  up  above  the 
small  matters  or  accidents  of  common  earthly  life. 
And  as  much  as  the  words  the  girl's  face  awed  her 
too ;  its  expression  was  so  consonant  with  them. 

"Now  Barker,  Christopher  may  bring  up  some 
coal  and  make  a  fire  before  he  drives  back  for  papa. 
In  both  rooms,  Barker.  And —  Hark!  what  is 
that  ? " 


396  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

A  long-drawn,  musical  cry  was  sounding  a  little 
distance  off,  slowly  coming  nearer  as  it  was  re 
peated.  A  cry  that  New  York  never  hears  now; 
but  that  used  to  come  through  the  stree-ts  in  the 
evening  with  a  sonorous,  half  melancholy  intona 
tion,  pleasant  to  hear. 

"  Oys ters  ! Oys ters !     Here's   your 

fresh  oys ters ! " 

"  That's  just  what  we  want,  Barker.  Get  Chris 
topher  to  stop  the  man." 

Esther  had  arranged  that  her  father's  room  and 
belongings  at  home  should  not  be  disturbed  until 
the  very  day  when  he  himself  should  make  the 
transfer  from  the  one  house  to  the  other.  So  until 
that  morning  even  the  colonel's  sofa  had  not  been 
moved.  Now  it  was  brought  over  and  placed  in 
position  between  the  fireplace  and  the  window, 
where  the  occupant  would  have  plenty  of  light  and 
warmth.  The  new  chintz  cover  had  been  put  on 
it;  the  table  was  placed  properly,  and  the  books 
which  the  colonel  liked  to  have  at  hand  lay  in  their 
usual  position.  In  the  back  room  the  table  was  set 
for  supper.  The  rooms  communicated,  though  in 
deed  not  by  folding  doors;  still  the  eye  could  go 
through  and  catch  the  glow  of  the  fire,  and  see  the 
neat  green  drugget  on  the  floor  and  the  pleasant 
array  on  the  supper  table. 

"  It  looks  very  nice,  Barker ! "  Esther  could  not 
help  saying  again. 

"  It  certainly  do,  mum,"  was  the  answer;  in  which 
nevertheless  Esther  heard  the  afore-mentioned  men- 


MOVING.  397 

tal  reservation.  If  her  father  liked  it !  Yes,  that 
could  not  be  known  till  he  came;  and  she  drew 
a  breath  of  patient  anxiety.  It  was  too  dark 
for  him  to  take  the  effect  of  anything  outside ;  she 
had  arranged  that.  One  thing  at  a  time,  she  thought. 
The  house  to-day.  Major  St.  to-morrow. 

She  met  him  in  the  hall  when  he  came,  giving 
him  a  kiss  and  a  welcome ;  helped  him  to  take  off 
his  great  coat,  and  conducted  him  into  the  small 
apartment  so  carefully  made  ready  for  him.  It 
offered  as  much  tasteful  comfort  as  it  was  possible 
for  a  room  of  its  inches  to  do.  Esther  waited  anx 
iously  for  the  effect.  The  colonel  warmed  his  hands 
at  the  blaze,  and  took  his  seat  on  the  sofa,  eyeing 
things  suspiciously. 

"  What  sort  of  a  place  is  this  we  have  come  to  ?" 
were  his  first  words. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  a  comfortable  place,  papa  ? 
This  chimney  draws  beautifully;  and  the  coal  is  ex 
cellent.  It  is  really  a  very  nice  little  house,  papa. 
I  think  it  will  be  comfortable." 

"  Not  very  large,"  said  the  colonel,  taking  with 
his  eye  the  measure  of  the  room. 

"No,  papa;  and  none  the  worse  for  that.  Koom 
enough  for  you,  and  room  enough  for  me ;  and  quite 
room  enough  for  Barker,  who  has  to  take  care  of 
it  all.  I  like  the  house  very  much." 

"  What  sort  of  a  street  is  it  ?  " 

Must  that  question  come  up  to-night!  Esther 
hesitated. 

"  I  thought,  sir,  the  street  was  of  less  importance 


398  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

to  us  than  the  home.  It  is  very  comfortable;  and 
the  rent  is  so  moderate  that  we  can  pay  our  way 
and  be  at  ease.  Papa,  I  would  not  like  the  finest 
house  in  the  world,  if  I  had  to  run  in  debt  to  live 
in  it." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  street?  " 

"Major  St." 

4 '  Whereabouts  is  it?  In  the  darkness  I  could 
not  see  where  we  were  going." 

"  Papa,  it  is  in  the  east  part  of  the  city,  not  very 
far  from  the  river.  Fulton  market  is  not  very  far 
off  either,  which  is  convenient." 

"Who  lives  here?"  asked  the  colonel,  with  a 
gathering  frown  on  his  brow. 

"  I  know  none  of  the  people ;  nor  even  their  names." 

"Of  course  not!  but  you  know,  I  suppose,  what 
sort  of  people  they  are  ?  " 

"They  are  plain  people,  papa;  they  are  not  of 
our  class.  They  seem  to  be  decent  people." 

"Decent!     What  do  you  mean  by  decent?" 

"Papa,  I  mean,  not  disorderly  people;  not  dis 
reputable.  And  is  not  that  enough  for  us,  papa  ? 
0  papa,  does  it  matter  what  the  people  are,  so  long 
as  our  house  is  nice  and  pretty  and  warm,  and 
the  low  rent  just  relieves  us  from  all  our  difficul 
ties  ?  Papa,  do  be  pleased  with  it !  I  think  it  is 
the  very  best  thing  we  could  have  done." 

"  Esther,  there  are  certain  things  that  one  owes 
to  oneself." 

"Yes,  sir;  but  must  we  not  pay  our  debts  to 
other  people  first  ?  " 


MOVING.  399 

"Debts?     We  were  not  in  debt  to  anybody!" 

"Yes,  papa;  to  more  than  one;  and  I  saw  no 
way  out  of  the  difficulty  till  I  heard  of  this  house. 
And  I  am  so  relieved  now,  you  cannot  think  with 
what  a  relief; — if  only  you  are  pleased,  dear  papa." 

He  must  know  so  much  of  the  truth,  Esther  said 
to  herself  with  rapid  calculation.  The  colonel  did 
not  look  pleased,  it  must  be  confessed.  All  the 
prettiness  and  pleasantness  on  which  Esther  had 
counted  to  produce  a  favourable  impression,  seemed 
to  fail  of  its  effect;  indeed  seemed  not  to  be  seen. 
The  colonel  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand  and  uttered 
something  very  like  a  groan. 

"So  this  is  what  we  have  come  to!"  he  said. 
"  You  do  not  know  what  you  have  done,  Esther." 

Esther  said  nothing  to  that.  Her  throat  seemed 
to  be  choked.  She  looked  at  her  beautiful  little  fire, 
and  had  some  trouble  to  keep  tears  from  starting. 

"  My  dear,  you  did  it  for  the  best,  I  do  not  doubt,'' 
her  father  added  presently.  "  I  only  regret  that  1 
was  not  consulted,  before  an  irrevocable  step  was 
taken." 

Esther  could  find  nothing  to  answer. 

"It  is  quite  true  that  a  man  remains  himself, 
whatever  he  does  that  is  not  morally  wrong;  it 
is  true  that  our  real  dignity  is  not  changed;  never 
theless,  people  pass  in  the  world  not  for  what  they 
are,  but  for  what  they  seem  to  be." 

"  0  papa,  do  you  think  that !  "  Esther  cried.  But 
the  colonel  went  on,  not  heeding  her. 

"  So  if  you  take  to  making  shoes,  it  will  be  sup- 


400  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

posed  that  you  are  no  better  than  a  cobbler ;  and  if 
you  choose  your  abode  among  washerwomen,  you 
will  be  credited  with  tastes  and  associations  that 
fit  you  for  your  surroundings.  Have  we  that  sort 
of  a  neighbourhood  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

"  I  do  not  know,  papa,"  Esther  said  meekly. 
The  colonel  fairly  groaned  again.  It  was  getting 
to  be  more  than  she  could  stand. 

"  Papa,"  she  said  gently,  "  we  have  done  the  best 
we  knew, — at  least  I  have;  and  the  necessity  is  not 
one  of  our  own  making.  Let  us  take  what  the 
Lord  gives.  I  think  he  has  given  us  a  great  deal. 
And  I  would  rather,  for  my  part,  that  people  thought 
anything  of  us,  rather  than  that  we  should  miss 
our  own  good  opinion.  I  do  not  know  just  what 
the  inhabitants  are,  round  about  here;  but  the 
street  is  at  least  clean  and  decent,  and  within  our 
own  walls  we  need  not  think  about  it.  Inside  it 
is  very  comfortable,  papa." 

The  colonel  was  silent  now,  not  however  seem 
ing  to  see  the  comfort.  There  was  a  little  interval, 
during  which  Esther  struggled  for  calmness  and  a 
clear  voice.  When  she  spoke  her  voice  was  very 
clear. 

"  Barker  has  tea  ready,  papa,  I  see.  I  hope  that 
will  be  as  good  as  ever,  and  better,  for  we  have 
got  something  you  like.  Shall  we  go  in  ?  It  is  in 
the  other  room." 

"  Why  is  it  not  here,  as  usual,  in  my  room  ?  I 
do  not  see  any  reason  for  the  change." 

"  It  saves  the  muss  of  crumbs  on  the  floor  in  this 


MOVING.  401 

room.  And  then  it  saves  Barker  a  good  deal  of 
trouble  to  have  the  table  there." 

"  Why  should  Barker  be  saved  trouble  here  more 
than  where  we  have  come  from?  I  do  not  un 
derstand." 

"  We  had  Christopher  there,  papa.  Here  Barkei 
has  no  one  to  help  her — except  what  I  can  do." 

"  It  must  be  the  same  thing,  to  have  tea  in  one 
room  or  in  another,  I  should  think." 

Esther  could  have  represented  that  the  other 
room  was  just  at  the  head  of  the  kitchen  stairs, 
while  to  serve  the  tea  on  the  colonel's  table  would 
eost  a  good  many  more  steps.  But  she  had  no 
heart  for  any  further  representations.  With  her 
own  hands,  and  with  her  own  feet,  which  were  by 
this  time  wearily  tired,  she  patiently  went  back 
and  forth  between  the  two  rooms,  bringing  plates 
and  cups  and  knives  and  forks,  and  tea-tray,  and 
bread  and  butter  and  honey  and  partridge,  and  salt 
and  pepper,  from  the  one  table  to  the  other;  which 
by  the  way  had  first  to  be  cleared  of  its  own  load 
of  books  and  writing  materials.  Esther  deposited 
these  on  the  floor  and  on  chairs,  and  arranged  the 
table  for  tea,  and  pushed  it  into  the  position  her 
father  was  accustomed  to  like.  The  tea-kettle  she 
left  on  its  trivet  before  the  grate  in  the  other  room ; 
and  now  made  journeys  uncounted  between  that 
room  and  this,  to  take  and  fetch  the  tea-pot.  Talk 
languished  meanwhile;  for  the  spirit  of  talk  was 
gone  from  Esther,  and  the  colonel  in  spite  of  his 
discomfiture  developed  a  remarkably  good  appetite. 


402  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

When  he  had  done,  Esther  carried  everything  back 
again. 

"  Why  do  you  do  that  ?  where  is  Barker  ?  "  her 
father  demanded  at  last. 

"  Barker  has  been  exceedingly  busy  all  day  put 
ting  down  carpets  and  arranging  her  storeroom.  I 
am  sure  she  is  tired." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  tired  too,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"Yes,  papa." 

He  said  no  more,  however;  and  Esther  finished 
her  work,  and  then  sat  down  on  a  cushion  at  the 
corner  of  the  fireplace ;  in  one  of  those  moods  be 
longing  to  tired  mind  and  body,  in  which  one  does 
not  seem  at  the  moment  to  care  any  longer  about 
anything.  The  lively,  blazing  coal  fire  shone  on  a 
warm,  cosy  little  room,  and  on  two  somewhat  de 
spondent  figures.  For  his  supper  had  not  bright 
ened  the  colonel  up  a  bit.  He  sat  brooding.  Per 
haps  his  thoughts  took  the  road  that  Esther's  had 
often  followed  lately;  for  he  suddenly  came  out 
with  a  name  now  rarely  spoken  between  them. 

"  It  is  a  long  while  that  we  have  heard  nothing 
from  the  Dallases !  " 

"  Yes," — Esther  said  apathetically. 

"  Mr.  Dallas  used  to  write  to  me  now  and  then." 

"  They  are  busy  with  their  own  concerns,  and 
we  are  out  of  sight;  why  should  they  remember 
us?" 

"They  used  to  be  good  neighbours,  in  Seaforth." 

"  Pitt. — Papa,  I  do  not  think  his  father  and 
mother  were  ever  specially  fond  of  us." 


MOVING.  403 

"  Pitt  never  writes  to  me  now,"  the  colonel  went 
on  after  a  pause. 

"  He  is  busy  with  his  concerns.  He  has  forgotten 
us  too.  I  suppose  he  has  plenty  of  other  things  to 
think  of.  0  I  have  given  up  Pitt  long  ago." 

The  colonel  brooded  over  his  thoughts  a  while, 
then  raised  his  head  and  looked  again  over  the 
small  room. 

"My  dear,  it  would  have  been  better  to  staj 
where  we  were,"  he  said  regretfully. 

Esther  could  not  bear  to  pain  him  by  again  re 
minding  him  that  their  means  would  not  allow  it; 
and  as  her  father  lay  back  upon  the  sofa  and  closed 
his  eyes,  she  went  away  into  the  other  room  and 
sat  down  at  the  corner  of  that  fire,  where  the  par 
tition  wall  screened  her  from  view.  For  she  wanted 
to  let  her  head  drop  on  her  knees  and  be  still ;  and 
a  few  tears  that  she  could  not  help  came  hot  to  her 
eyes.  She  had  worked  so  hard  to  get  everything 
in  nice  order  for  her  father;  she  had  so  hoped  to 
see  him  pleased  and  contented;  and  now  he  was 
so  illogically  discontented!  Truly  he  could  tell 
her  nothing  she  did  not  already  know  about  the 
disadvantages  of  their  new  position ;  and  they  all 
rushed  upon  Esther's  mind  at  this  minute  with  re 
newed  force.  The  pleasant  country  and  the  shin 
ing  river  were  gone ;  she  would  no  longer  see  the 
lights  on  the  Jersey  shore  when  she  got  up  in  the 
morning ;  the  air  would  not  come  sweet  and  fresh 
to  her  windows;  there  would  be  no  singing  of 
birds  or  fragrance  of  flowers  around  her  even  in 


404  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

summer;  she  would  have  only  the  streets  and  the 
street  cries  and  noises,  and  dust,  and  unsweet 
breath.  The  house  would  do,  inside ;  but  outside, 
what  a  change !  And  though  Esther  was  not  very 
old  in  the  world,  nor  very  wordly-wise  for  her  years, 
she  knew, — if  not  as  well  as  her  father,  yet  she 
knew, — that  in  Major  St.  she  was  pretty  nearly 
cut  off  from  all  social  intercourse  with  her  kind. 
Her  school  experience  and  observation  had  taught 
her  so  much.  She  knew  that  her  occupation  as 
a  teacher  in  a  school  was  enough  of  itself  to  put 
her  out  of  the  way  of  invitations,  and  that  an  abode 
in  Major  St.  pretty  well  finished  the  matter.  Es 
ther  had  not  been  a  favourite  among  her  school 
companions  in  the  best  of  times;  she  was  of  too 
uncommon  a  beauty  perhaps,  perhaps  she  was  too 
different  from  them  in  other  respects.  Pleasant  as 
she  always  was,  she  was  nevertheless  separate  from 
her  fellows  by  a  great  separation  of  nature;  and 
that  is  a  thing  not  only  felt  on  both  sides,  but  never 
forgiven  by  the  inferior.  Miss  Gainsborough,  daugh 
ter  of  a  rich  and  influential  retired  officer,  would 
however  have  been  sought  eagerly  and  welcomed 
universally ;  Miss  Gainsborough  the  school  teacher, 
daughter  of  an  unknown  somebody  who  lived  in 
Major  St.,  was  another  matter;  hardly  a  desirable 
acquaintance.  For  what  should  she  be  desired  ? 

Esther  had  not  been  without  a  certain  dim  per 
ception  of  all  this;  and  it  came  to  her  with  special 
disagreeableness  just  then,  when  every  thought  came 
that  could  make  her  dissatisfied  with  herself  and 


MOVING.  405 

with  her  lot.  Why  had  her  father  ever  come  away 
from  England,  where  friends  and  relations  could 
not  have  failed  ?  Why  had  he  left  Seaforth,  where 
at  least  they  were  living  like  themselves,  and  where 
they  would  not  have  dropped  out  of  the  knowledge 
of  Pitt  Dallas?  The  feeling  of  loneliness  crept 
again  over  Esther;  and  a  feeling  of  having  to  fight 
her  way  as  it  were  single-handed.  Was  this  little 
house,  and  Major  St.,  henceforth  to  be  the  scene 
and  sphere  of  her  life  and  labours?  How  could 
she  ever  work  up  out  of  it  into  anything  better  ? 

Esther  was  tired  and  felt  blue,  which  was  the 
reason  why  all  these  thoughts  and  others  chased 
through  her  mind;  and  more  than  one  tear  rolled 
down  and  dropped  on  her  stuff  gown.  Then  she 
gathered  herself  up.  How  had  she  come  to  Major 
St.  and  to  school  teaching?  Not  by  her  own  will, 
or  fault.  Therefore,  it  was  part  of  the  training 
assigned  for  her  by  a  wisdom  that  is  perfect  and 
a  love  that  never  forgets.  And  Esther  began  to 
be  ashamed  of  herself.  What  did  she  mean  by 
saying,  "The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd,"  if  she  could 
not  trust  him  to  take  care  of  his  sheep  ?  And 
now,  how  had  she  been  helped  out  of  her  difficul 
ties,  enabled  to  pay  her  debts,  brought  to  a  home 
where  she  could  live  and  be  clear  of  the  world; 
yes,  and  live  pleasantly  too.  And  as  for  being 
alone — .  Esther  rose  with  a  smile.  Can  I  not 
trust  the  Lord  for  that  too  ?  she  thought.  If  it 
is  his  will  I  should  be  alone,  then  that  is  the  very 
best  thing  for  me;  and  perhaps  He  will  come  nearer 


406  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

than  if  I  had  other  distractions  to  take  my  eyes  in 
another  direction. 

Barker  came  in  to  remove  the  tea  things,  and 
Esther  met  her  with  a  smile  the  brightness  of  which 
much  cheered  the  good  woman. 

"  Was  the  pheasant  good,  mum  ?  "  she  asked  in 
a  whisper. 

"Capital,  Barker,  and  the  honey.  And  papa 
made  a  very  good  supper.  And  I  am  so  thank 
ful,  Barker!  for  the  house  is  very  nice,  and  we 
are  moved." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

BETTY. 

IT  was  summer  again ;  and  on  the  broad  grassy 
street  of  Seaforth  the  sunshine  poured  in  its 
full  power.  The  place  lay  silent  under  the  heat 
of  midday;  not  a  breath  stirred  the  leaves  of  the 
big  elms,  and  no  passing  wheels  stirred  the  dust 
of  the  roadway,  which  was  ready  to  rise  at  any 
provocation.  It  was  very  dry,  and  very  hot.  Yet 
at  Seaforth  those  two  facts,  though  proclaimed  from 
everybody's  mouth,  must  be  understood  with  a  qual 
ification.  The  heat  and  the  dryness  were  not  as 
elsewhere.  So  near  the  sea  as  the  town  was,  a 
continual  freshness  came  from  thence  in  vapours 
and  cool  airs,  and  mitigated  what  in  other  places 
was  found  oppressive.  However,  the  Seaforth  peo 
ple  said  it  was  oppressive  too;  and  things  are  so 
relative  in  the  affairs  of  life  that  I  do  not  know 
if  they  were  more  contented  than  their  neighbours. 
But  everybody  said  the  heat  was  fine  for  the  hay; 
and  as  most  of  the  inhabitants  had  more  or  less  of  • 
that  crop  to  get  in,  they  criticised  the  weather  only 
at  times  when  they  were  thinking  of  it  in  some 
other  connection. 

(407) 


408  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

At  Mrs.  Dallas's  there  was  no  criticism  of  any 
thing.  In  the  large  comfortable  rooms,  where 
windows  were  all  open,  and  blinds  tempering  the 
too  ardent  light,  and  cool  mats  on  the  floors,  and 
chintz  furniture  looked  light  and  summery,  there 
was  an  atmosphere  of  pure  enjoyment  and  expecta 
tion.  For  Pitt  was  coming  home  again,  and  his 
mother  was  looking  for  him  with  every  day.  She 
was  sitting  now  awaiting  him ;  no  one  could  tell  at 
what  hour  he  might  arrive ;  and  his  mother's  face 
was  beautiful  with  hope.  She  was  her  old  self;  not 
changed  at  all  by  the  four  or  five  years  of  Pitt's 
absence;  as  handsome  and  as  young  and  as  stately 
as  ever.  She  made  no  demonstration  now;  did  not 
worry  either  herself  or  others  with  questions  and 
speculations  and  hopes  and  fears  respecting  her 
son's  coming;  yet  you  could  see  on  her  fine  face, 
if  you  were  clever  at  reading  faces,  the  lines  of 
pride  and  joy,  and  now  and  then  a  quiver  of  ten 
derness.  It  was  seen  by  one  who  was  sitting  with 
her,  whose  interest  and  curiosity  it  involuntarily 
moved. 

This  second  person  was  a  younger  lady.  Indeed 
a  young  lady,  not  by  comparison,  but  absolutely.  A 
very  attractive  person  too.  She  had  an  exceedingly 
good  figure,  which  the  trying  dress  of  those  times 
Chewed  in  its  full  beauty.  Wo  to  the  lady  then 
whose  shoulders  were  not  straight,  or  the  lines  of  her 
figure  not  flowing,  or  the  proportions  of  it  not  sat 
isfactory.  Every  ungracefulness  must  have  shewn 
its  full  deformity,  with  no  possibility  of  disguise; 


BETTY.  409 

every  angle  must  have  been  aggravated,  and  every 
untoward  movement  made  doubly  fatal.  But  the 
dress  only  set  off  and  developed  the  beauty  that 
could  bear  it.  And  the  lady  sitting  with  Mrs. 
Dallas  neither  feared  nor  had  need  to  fear  criticism. 
Something  of  that  fact  appeared  in  her  graceful 
posture  and  in  the  brow  of  habitual  superiority, 
and  in  the  look  of  the  eyes  that  were  now  and  then 
lifted  from  her  work  to  her  companion.  The  eyes 
were  beautiful,  and  they  were  also  queenly ;  at  least 
their  calm  fearlessness  was  not  due  to  absence  of 
self  consciousness.  She  was  a  pretty  picture  to  see. 
The  low-cut  dress  and  fearfully  short  waist  revealed 
a  white  skin  and  a  finely  moulded  bust  and  shoulders. 
The  very  scant  and  clinging  robe  was  of  fine  white 
muslin,  with  a  narrow  dainty  border  of  embroidery 
at  the  bottom ;  and  a  scarf  of  the  same  was  thrown 
round  her  shoulders.  The  round  white  arms  were 
bare,  the  little  tufty  white  sleeves  making  a  pretty 
break  between  them  and  the  soft  shoulders;  and 
the  little  hands  were  busy  with  a  strip  of  embroid 
ery,  which  looked  as  if  it  might  be  destined  for  the 
ornamentation  of  another  similar  dress.  The  lady's 
face  was  delicate,  intelligent  and  attractive,  rather 
than  beautiful;  her  eyes  however,  as  I  said,  were 
fine ;  and  over  her  head  and  upon  her  neck  curled 
ringlets  of  black  lustrous  hair. 

"  You  think  he  will  be  here  to-day  ? "  she  said, 
breaking  the  familiar  silence  that  had  reigned  for 
a  while.  She  had  caught  one  of  Mrs.  Dallas's 
glances  towards  the  window. 


410  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  He  may  be  here  any  day.  It  is  impossible  to 
tell.  He  would  come  before  his  letter." 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  him,  I  can  see.  What 
made  you  send  him  away  from  you  ?  England  is 
so  far  off!" 

Mrs.  Dallas  hesitated;  put  up  the  end  of  her 
knitting-needle  under  her  cap,  and  gently  moved  it 
up  and  down  in  meditative  fashion. 

"  We  wanted  him  to  be  an  Englishman,  Betty." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Dallas?  Is  he  not  going  to  live  in 
America  ?  " 

"Probably." 

"  Then  why  make  an  Englishman  of  him  ?  That 
will  make  him  discontented  with  things  here." 

"  I  hope  not.  He  was  not  changed  enough  for 
that  when  he  was  here  last.  Pitt  does  not  change." 

"  He  must  be  an  extraordinary  character  !  "  said 
the  young  lady  with  a  glance  at  Pitt's  mother. 
"Dear  Mrs.  Dallas,  how  am  I  to  understand  that." 

"  Pitt  does  not  change,"  repeated  the  other. 

"  But  one  ought  to  change.  That  is  a  dreadful 
sort  of  people,  that  go  on  straight  over  the  heads 
of  circumstances,  just  because  they  laid  out  the 
road  there  before  the  circumstances  arose.  I  have 
seen  such  people.  They  tread  down  everything  in 
their  way." 

"  Pitt  does  not  change,"  Mrs.  Dallas  said  again. 
Her  companion  thought  she  said  it  with  a  certain 
satisfied  confidence.  And  perhaps  it  was  true;  but 
the  moment  after  Mrs.  Dallas  remembered  that  if  the 
proposition  were  universal  it  might  be  inconvenient. 


BETTY.  411 

"At  least  he  is  hard  to  change,"  she  went  on; 
"  therefore  his  father  and  1  wished  him  to  be  edu 
cated  in  the  old  country  arid  to  form  his  notions 
according  to  the  standard  of  things  there.  I  think 
a  republic  is  very  demoralizing." 

"  Is  the  standard  of  morals  lower  here  ?  "  inquired 
the  younger  lady  demurely. 

"  I  am  not  speaking  of  morals,  in  the  usual  sense. 
Of  course,  that —  But  there  is  a  little  too  much  free 
dom  here.  And  besides, — I  wanted  Pitt  to  be  a 
true  Church  of  England  man." 

"  Isn't  he  that  ?  " 

"0  yes,  I  have  no  doubt  he  is  now;  but  he  had 
formed  some  associations  I  was  afraid  of.  With 
my  son's  peculiar  character,  I  thought  there  might 
be  danger.  I  rely  on  you,  Betty,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas 
smiling,  "  to  remove  the  last  vestige." 

The  young  lady  gave  a  glance  of  quick,  keen  cu 
riosity  and  understanding,  in  which  sparkled  a  lit 
tle  amusement.  "  What  can  I  do  ? "  she  asked 
demurely. 

"  Bewitch  him,  as  you  do  everybody." 

"  Bewitch  him,  and  hand  him  over  to  you !  "  she 
remarked. 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas, — "not  necessarily.  You 
must  see  him,  before  you  can  know  what  you 
would  like  to  do  with  him." 

"  Do  I  understand,  then  ?  He  is  supposed  to  be 
in  some  danger  of  lapsing  from  the  true  faith — 

"  0  no,  my  dear !  I  did  not  say  that.  I  meant 
only,  if  he  had  staid  in  America.  It  seems  to  rue 


412  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

there  is  a  general  loosening  of  all  bonds  here.  Boys 
and  girls  do  their  own  way/' 

"  Was  it  only  the  general  spirit  of  the  air,  Mrs. 
Dallas?  or  was  it  a  particular  influence,  that  you 
feared  ?  " 

"  Well — both,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  again  applying 
her  knitting  needle  under  her  cap. 

The  younger  lady  was  silent  a  few  minutes;  go 
ing  on  with  her  embroidery. 

"This  is  getting  to  be  very  interesting — "  she 
remarked. 

"  It  is  very  interesting  to  me,"  replied  the  mother, 
with  a  thoughtful  look.  "  For,  as  I  told  you,  Pitt 
is  a  very  fast  friend,  and  persistent  in  all  his  likings 
and  dislikings.  Here  he  had  none  but  the  company 
of  dissenters;  and  I  did  not  want  him  to  get  in 
with  people  of  that  persuasion." 

"Is  there  much  society  about  here?  I  fancied 
not." 

"  No  society,  for  him.  Country  people — farmers 
— people  of  that  stamp.  Nothing  else." 

"I  should  have  thought,  dear  Mrs.  Dallas,  that 
you  would  have  been  quite  a  sufficient  counterac 
tion  to  temptation  from  such  a  source  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dallas  hesitated.  "  Boys  will  be  boys,"  she 
said. 

" But  he  is  not  a  boy  now? " 

"He  is  twenty  four." 

"  Not  a  boy,  certainly.  But  do  you  know,  that 
is  an  age  when  men  are  very  hard  to  manage  ?  It 
is  easier  earlier,  or  later." 


BETTY.  413 

"  Not  difficult  to  you  at  any  time,"  said  the  other 
flatteringly. 

The  conversation  dropped  there;  at  least  there 
came  an  interval  of  quiet  working  on  the  young 
lady's  part,  and  of  rather  listless  knitting  on  the 
part  of  the  mother,  whose  eyes  went  wistfully  to 
the  window  without  seeing  anything.  And  this 
lasted  till  a  step  was  heard  at  the  front  door.  Mrs. 
Dallas  let  fall  her  needles  and  her  yarn  and  rose 
hurriedly,  crying  out — "  That  is  not  Mr.  Dallas !  " 
— and  so  speaking,  rushed  into  the  hall. 

There  was  a  little  bustle,  a  smothered  word  or 
two,  and  then  a  significant  silence;  which  .lasted 
long  enough  to  let  the  watcher  left  behind  in  the 
drawing  room  conclude  on  the  very  deep  relations 
subsisting  between  mother  and  son.  Steps  were 
heard  moving  at  length,  but  they  moved  and 
stopped;  there  was  lingering,  and  slow  progress; 
and  words  were  spoken,  broken  questions  from 
Mrs.  Dallas  and  brief  responses  in  a  stronger  voice 
that  was  low-pitched  and  pleasant.  The  figures 
appeared  in  the  doorway  at  last,  but  even  there 
lingered  still,  the  mother  and  son  were  looking  into 
one  another's  faces  and  speaking  those  absorbed 
little  utterances  of  first  meeting  which  are  insig 
nificant  enough,  if  they  were  not  weighted  with 
such  a  burden  of  feeling.  Miss  Betty  sitting  at 
her  embroidery  cast  successive  rapid  glances  of 
curiosity  and  interest  at  the  new  comer.  His  voice 
had  already  made  her  pulses  quicken  a  little,  for 
the  tone  of  it  touched  her  fancy.  The  first  glance 


414  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

shewed  him  tall  and  straight;  the  second  caught  a 
smile  which  was  both  merry  and  sweet;  a  third 
saw  that  the  level  brows  expressed  character;  and 
then  the  two  people  turned  their  faces  towards  her 
and  came  into  the  room,  and  Mrs.  Dallas  presented 
her  son. 

The  young  lady  rose  and  made  a  reverence,  ac 
cording  to  the  more  stately,  and  more  elegant, 
fashion  of  the  day.  The  gentleman's  obeisance 
was  profound  in  its  demonstration  of  respect.  Im 
mediately  after,  however,  he  turned  to  his  mother 
again ;  a  look  of  affectionate  joy  shining  upon  her 
out  of  his  eyes  and  smile. 

"  Two  years !  "  she  was  exclaiming.  "  Pitt,  how 
you  have  changed  !  " 

"  Have  I  ?     I  think  not  much." 

"  No,  in  one  way  not  much.  I  see  you  are  your 
old  self.  But  two  years  have  made  you  older." 

"So  they  should." 

"Somehow  I  had  not  expected  it,"  said  the 
mother,  passing  her  hand  across  her  eyes  with  a 
gesture  a  little  as  if  there  were  tears  in  them.  "  I 
thought  I  should  see  my  boy  again — and  he  is 
gone." 

"  Not  at  all !  "  said  Pitt  laughing.  "  Mistaken, 
mother.  There  is  all  of  him  here  that  there  ever 
was.  The  difference  is,  that  now  there  is  some 
thing  more." 

"What?"  she  asked. 

"  A  little  more  experience — a  little  more  knowl 
edge — let  us  hope,  a  little  more  wisdom." 


BETTY.  415 

"  There  is  more  than  that,"  said  the  mother  look 
ing  at  him  fondly. 

"What?" 

"  It  is  the  difference  I  might  have  looked  for," 
she  said,  "only,  somehow,  I  had  not  looked  for 
it."  And  the  swift  passage  of  her  hand  across  her 
eyes  gave  again  the  same  testimony  of  a  few 
minutes  before.  Her  son  rose  hereupon  and  pro 
posed  to  withdraw  to  his  room ;  and  as  his  mother 
accompanied  him,  Miss  Betty  noticed  how  his  arm 
was  thrown  round  her  and  he  was  bending  to  her 
and  talking  to  her  as  they  went.  Miss  Betty 
stitched  "away  busily,  thoughts  keeping  time  with 
her  needle,  for  some  time  thereafter.  Yet  she  did 
not  quite  know  what  she  was  thinking  of.  There 
was  a  little  stir  in  her  mind,  which  was  so  unaccus 
tomed  that  it  was  delightful ;  it  was  also  vague,  and 
its  provoking  elements  were  not  clearly  discernible. 
The  young  lady  was  conscious  of  a  certain  pleas 
ant  thrill  in  the  view  of  the  task  to  which  she  had 
been  invited.  It  promised  her  possible  difficulty, 
for  even  in  the  few  short  minutes  just  passed  she 
had  gained  an  inkling  that  Mrs.  Dallas's  words 
might  be  true,  and  Pitt  not  precisely  a  man  that 
you  could  turn  over  your  finger.  It  threatened 
her  possible  danger,  which  she  did  not  admit; 
nevertheless  the  stinging  sense  of  it  made  itself 
felt  and  pricked  the  pleasure  into  livelier  existence. 
This  was  something  out  of  the  ordinary.  This  was 
a-  man  not  just  cut  after  the  common  work-a-day 
pattern.  Miss  Betty  recalled  involuntarily  one 


416  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

trait  after  another  that  had  fastened  on  her  mem 
ory.  Eyes  of  bright  intelligence  and  hidden  power, 
a  very  frank  smile,  and  especially  with  all  that, 
the  great  tenderness  which  had  been  shewn  in 
every  word  and  look  to  his  mother.  The  good 
breeding  and  ease  of  manner  Miss  Betty  had  seen 
before;  this  other  trait  was  something  new;  and 
perhaps  she  was  conscious  of  a  little  pull  it  gave 
at  her  heartstrings.  This  was  not  the  manner  she 
had  seen  at  home,  where  her  father  had  treated 
her  mother  as  a  sort  of  queen  consort  certainly; 
co-regent  of  the  house;  but  where  they  had  lived 
upon  terms  of  mutual  diplomatic  respect;  and  her 
brothers,  if  they  cared  much  for  anybody  but  Num 
ber  one,  gave  small  proof  of  the  fact.  What  a 
brother  this  man  would  be !  what  a — something 
else!  Miss  Betty  sheered  off  a  little  from  just 
this  idea;  not  that  she  was  averse  to  it,  or  that 
she  had  not  often  entertained  it;  indeed  she  had 
entertained  it  not  two  hours  ago  about  Pitt  himself; 
but  the  presence  of  the  man  and  the  recognition 
of  what  was  in  him  had  stirred  in  her  a  kindred 
delicacy  which  was  innate,  as  in  every  true  woman, 
although  her  way  of  life  and  some  of  her  associates 
had  not  fostered  it.  Betty  Frere  was  a  true  woman, 
originally;  alas,  she  was  also  now  a  woman  of  the 
world;  also,  she  was  poor,  and  to  make  a  good 
marriage  she  had  known  for  some  years  was  very 
desirable  for  her.  What  a  very  good  marriage  this 
would  be!  Poor  girl,  she  could  not  help  the 
thought  now,  and  she  must  not  be  judged  hardly 


BETTY.  417 

for  it.  It  was  in  the  air  she  breathed  and  that  all 
her  associates  breathed.  Betty  had  not  been  in  a 
hurry  to  get  married,  having  small  doubt  of  her 
power  to  do  it  in  any  case  that  pleased  her;  now, 
somehow,  she  was  suddenly  confronted  by  a  doubt 
of  her  power. 

I  am  pulling  out  the  threads  of  what  was  to 
Betty  only  a  web  of  very  confused  pattern;  she 
did  not  try  to  unravel  it.  Her  consciousness  of 
just  two  things  was  clear;  the  pleasant  stimulus 
of  the  task  set  before  her,  and  a  little  sharp  pre 
monition  of  its  danger.  She  dismissed  that.  She 
could  perform  the  task  and  detach  Pitt  from  any 
imaginary  ties  that  his  mother  was  afraid  of,  with 
out  herself  thereby  becoming  entangled.  It  would 
be  a  game  of  uncommon  interest  and  entertain 
ment,  and  a  piece  of  benevolence  too.  But  Betty's 
pulses,  as  I  said,  were  quickened  a  little 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
HOLIDAYS. 

SHE  did  not  see  her  new  acquaintance  again  till 
they  met  at  the  supper  table.  She  behaved 
herself  then  in  an  extremely  well-bred  way;  was 
dignified  and  reserved  and  quiet;  hardly  said  any 
thing,  as  with  a  nice  recognition  that  her  words 
were  not  wanted;  scarce  ever  seemed  to  look  at 
the  new  arrival,  of  whom  nevertheless  not  a  word 
nor  a  look  escaped  her;  and  was  simply  an  elegant 
quiet  figure  at  the  table,  so  lovely  to  look  at  that 
words  from  her  seemed  to  be  superfluous.  Whether 
the  stranger  saw  it,  or  whether  he  missed  anything, 
there  was  no  sign.  He  seemed  to  be  provokingly 
and  exclusively  occupied  with  his  father  and  mother ; 
hardly,  she  thought,  giving  to  herself  all  the  at 
tention  which  is  due  from  a  gentleman  to  a  lady. 
Yet  he  fulfilled  his  duties  in  that  regard,  albeit  only 
as  one  does  it  to  whom  they  are  a  matter  of  course. 
Betty  listened  attentively  to  everything  that  was 
said,  while  she  was  to  all  appearance  indifferently 
busied  with  her  supper. 

But  the  conversation  ran,  as  it  is  wont  to  run 

at  such  times,  when  hearts  long  absent  have  found 
418) 


HOLIDAYS.  419 

each  other  again,  and  fling  trifles  about,  knowing 
that  their  stores  of  treasure  must  wait  for  a  quieter 
time  to  be  unpacked.  They  talked  of  weather  and 
crops  and  Pitt's  voyage,  and  the  neighbours,  and 
the  changes  in  the  village,  and  the  improvements 
about  the  place ;  not  as  if  any  of  these  things  were 
much  cared  for;  they  were  bubbles  floating  on 
their  cups  of  joy.  Questions  asked  and  questions 
answered,  as  if  in  the  pleasure  of  speaking  to  one 
another  again  the  subject  of  their  words  did  not 
matter;  or  as  if  the  supreme  content  of  the  mo 
ment  could  spare  a  little  benevolence  even  for 
these  outside  things.  At  last  a  question  was  asked 
which  made  Betty  prick  up  her  ears;  this  must 
have  been  due  to  something  indefinable  in  the 
tone  of  the  speakers,  for  the  words  were  nothing. 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  of  the  Gainsboroughs?" 

"  No." 

It  was  the  elder  Dallas  who  answered. 

"  What  has  become  of  them  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  in  condition  to  tell." 

"  Have  you  written  to  them  V  " 

«  No, — not  since  the  last  time ;  and  that  was  a 
good  while  ago." 

"Then  you  do  not  know  how  things  are  with 
them,  of  course.  I  do  not  see  how  you  have  let 
them  drop  out  of  knowledge  so.  They  were  not 
exactly  people  to  lose  sight  of." 

"  Why  not  ? — when  they  went  out  of  sight." 

"  You  do  not  even  know,  sir,  whether  Col.  Gains- 
. borough  is  still  living?" 


420  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  How  should  I  ?  But  he  was  as  likely  to  live 
as  any  other  rnan." 

"  He  did  not  think  so." 

"  For  which  very  reason  he  would  probably  live 
longer  than  many  other  men.  There  is  nothing 
like  a  hypochondriack  for  tough  holding  out." 

"  Well,  I  must  search  New  York  for  them  this 
time,  until  I  find  them." 

"What  possible  occasion,  Pitt?"  said  his  mother, 
with  a  tone  of  uneasiness  which  Betty  noted. 

"Duty,  mamma, — and  also  pleasure.  But  duty 
is  imperative." 

"  I  do  not  see  the  duty.  You  tried  to  look  them 
up  the  last  time  you  were  here,  and  failed." 

"I  shall  not  fail  this  time." 

"  If  it  depended  on  your  will,"  remarked  his 
father  coolly.  "  But  I  think  the  probability  is  that 
they  have  gone  back  to  England,  and  are  conse 
quently  no  longer  in  New  York." 

"  What  are  the  grounds  of  that  probability  ?  " 

"When  last  I  heard  from  the  colonel,  he  was 
proposing  the  question  of  reconciliation  with  his 
family.  And  as  I  have  heard  no  more  from  him 
since  then,  I  think  the  likeliest  thing  is  that  he 
has  made  up  his  quarrel  and  gone  home." 

"  I  can  easily  determine  that  question  by  look 
ing  over  the  shipping  lists." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Mr.  Dallas  rubbing  his  chin. 
"  If  he  has  gone,  I  think  it  will  have  been  under 
another  name.  The  one  he  bore  here  was,  I  sus 
pect,  assumed." 


HOLIDAYS.  421 

"  What  for  ?"  demanded  Pitt  somewhat  sharply. 

"  Reasons  of  family  pride,  no  doubt.  That  is 
enough  to  make  men  do  foolisher  things." 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  foolisher  thing 
to  do,"  replied  his  son.  But  then  the  conversation 
turned.  It  had  given  Miss  Betty  something  to 
think  of.  She  drew  her  own  conclusions  without 
asking  anybody.  And  in  some  indefinite,  inscrut 
able  way  it  stimulated  and  confirmed  her  desire 
for  the  game  Mrs.  Dallas  had  begged  her  to  play. 
Human  hearts  are  certainly  strange  things.  What 
were  the  Gainsboroughs  to  Miss  Betty  Frere?  Noth 
ing  in  the  world,  half  an  hour  before;  now? — Now 
there  was  a  vague  suspicion  of  an  enemy  some 
where;  a  scent  of  rivalry  in  the  air;  an  immediate 
rising  of  partisanship.  Were  these  the  people  of 
whom  Mrs.  Dallas  was  afraid  ?  against  whom  she 
craved  help  ?  She  should  have  help.  Was  it  not 
even  a  meritorious  thing,  to  withdraw  a  young 
man  from  untoward  influences,  and  keep  him  in 
the  path  marked  out  by  his  mother  ? 

Miss  Frere  scented  a  battle  like  Job's  war  horse. 
In  spirit,  that  is ;  outwardly,  nothing  could  shew  less 
signs  of  war.  She  was  equal  to  Pitt,  in  her  seem 
ing  careless  apartness ;  the  difference  was,  that  with 
her  it  was  seeming,  and  with  him  reality.  She  lost 
not  a  word ;  she  failed  not  to  observe  and  regard 
every  movement;  she  knew,  without  being  seen  to 
look,  just  what  his  play  of  feature  and  various  ex 
pressions  were;  all  the  while  she  was  calmly  em 
broidering,  or  idly  gazing  out  of  the  window,  or 


422  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

skilfully  playing  chess  with  Mr.  Dallas,  whom  she 
inevitably  beat. 

Pitt,  the  while,  his  mother  thought,  (and  so 
thought  the  young  lady  herself)  was  provokingly 
careless  of  her  attractions.  He  was  going  hither 
and  thither ;  over  the  farm  with  his  father ;  about 
the  village,  to  see  the  changes  and  look  up  his  old 
acquaintances;  often,  too,  busy  in  his  room  where 
he  had  been  wont  to  spend  so  many  hours  in  the 
old  time.  He  was  graver  than  he  used  to  be ;  with 
the  manner  of  a  man,  and  a  thoughtful  one;  he 
shewed  not  the  least  inclination  to  amuse  himself 
with  his  mother's  elegant  visiter.  Mrs.  Dallas 
became  as  nearly  fidgety  as  it  was  in  her  nature 
to  be. 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  young  friend?"  she 
asked  Pitt  when  he  had  been  a  day  or  two  at  home. 

"  The  lady  ?  She  is  a  very  satisfactory  person, 
to  the  eye." 

"To  the  eye!"— 

"  It  is  only  my  eyes,  you  will  remember,  mother, 
that  know  anything  about  her." 

"That  is  your  fault.  Why  do  you  let  it  be 
true  ?  " 

"  Very  naturally,  I  have  had  something  else  to 
think  of." 

"  But  she  is  a  guest  in  the  house,  and  you  really 
seem  to  forget  it,  Pitt.  Can't  you  take  her  for  a 
drive?" 

"Where  shall  I  take  her?" 

"  Where?    There  is   all  the  country  to  choose 


HOLIDAYS.  423 

from.  What  a  question!  You  never  used  to  be 
at  a  loss,  as  I  remember,  in  old  times,  when  you 
went  driving  about  with  that  little  protegee  Of 
yours." 

It  was  very  imprudent  of  Mrs.  Dallas,  and  she 
knew  it  immediately,  and  was  beyond  measure 
vexed  with  herself.  But  the  subject  was  started. 

"  Poor  Esther !  "  said  Pitt  thoughtfully.  "  Mam 
ma,  I  can't  understand  how  you  and  my  father 
should  have  lost  sight  of  those  people  so." 

"  They  went  out  of  our  way." 

"  But  you  sometimes-  go  to  New  York." 

"  Passing  through,  to  Washington.  I  could  not 
have  time  to  search  for  people  whose  address  I  did 
not  know." 

"  I  cannot  understand  why  you  did  not  know  it. 
They  were  not  the  sort  of  people  to  be  left  to  them 
selves.  A  hypochondriack  father,  who  thought  he 
was  dying,  and  a  young  girl  just  growing  up  to 
need  a  kind  mother's  care,  which  she  had  not.  I 
would  give,  more  than  I  can  tell  you,  to  find  her 
again ! " 

"What  could  you  possibly  do  for  her,  Pitt? — 
You,  reading  law  and  living  in  chambers  in  the 
Temple, — in  London, — and  she  a  grown  young 
woman  by  this  time,  and  living  in  New  York.  No 
doubt  her  father  is  quite  equal  to  taking  care  of 
her." 

Pitt  made  no  reply.  His  mother  repeated  her 
question.  "  What  could  you  do  for  her  ?  " 

She  was  looking  at  him  keenly,  and  did  not  at  all 


424  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

like  a  faint  smile  which  hovered  for  a  second  upon 
his  lips. 

"  That  is  a  secondary  question,"  he  said.  "  The 
primary  is,  Where  is  she?  I  must  go  and  find 
out." 

"Your  father  thinks  they  have  gone  back  to 
England.  It  would  just  be  lost  labour,  Pitt." 

"  Not  if  I  found  that  was  true." 

"  What  could  you  do  for  them,  if  you  could  dis 
cover  them  ?  " 

"  Mother,  that  would  depend  on  what  condition 
they  were  in.  I  made  a  promise  once  to  Col. 
Gainsborough  to  look  after  his  daughter." 

"A  very  extraordinary  promise,  for  him  to  ask 
or  for  you  to  give !  seeing  you  were  but  a  boy  at 
the  time." 

"Somewhat  extraordinary,  perhaps.  However, 
that  is  nothing  to  the  matter." 

There  was  a  little  vexed  pause ;  and  then  Mrs. 
Dallas  said, 

"  In  the  mean  while,  instead  of  busying  yourself 
with  far-away  claims  which  are  no  claims,  what  do 
you  think  of  paying  a  little  attention  to  a  guest  in 
your  own  house  ?  " 

Pitt  lifted  his  head  and  seemed  to  prick  up  his 
ears. 

"Miss  Frere?  You  wish  me  to  take  her  to 
drive?  I  am  willing,  mamma." 

"  Insensible  boy  !  You  ought  to  be  very  glad 
of  the  privilege." 

"  I  would  rather  take  you,  mother." 


HOLIDAYS.  425 

The  drive  accordingly  was  proposed  that  very 
day;  did  not  however  come  off.  It  was  too  hot, 
Miss  Frere  said. 

She  was  sitting  in  the  broad  verandah  at  the 
back  of  the  house,  which  looked  out  over  the  gar 
den.  It  was  an  orderly  wilderness  of  cherry  trees 
and  apple  trees  and  plum  trees,  raspberry  vines 
and  gooseberry  bushes;  with  marigolds  and  four 
o'clocks  and  love-in-a-puzzle  and  hollyhocks  and 
daisies  and  larkspur,  and  a  great  many  more  sweet 
and  homely  growths  that  nobody  makes  any  account 
of  now-a-days.  Sunlight  just  now  lay  glowing  upon 
it,  and  made  the  shade  of  the  verandah  doubly  pleas 
ant  ;  the  verandah  being  further  shaded  by  honey 
suckle  and  trumpet  creeper  which  wreathed  round 
the  pillars  and  stretched  up  to  the  eaves ;  and  the 
scent  of  the  honeysuckle  was  mingled  with  the  smell 
of  roses  which  came  up  from  the  garden.  In  this 
sweet  and  bowery  place  Miss  Frere  was  sitting 
when  she  declared  it  was  too  hot  to  drive.  She 
was  in  an  India  garden  chair,  and  had  her  em 
broidery  as  usual  in  her  hand.  She  always  had 
something  in  her  hand.  Pitt  lingered,  languidly 
contemplating  the  picture  she  made. 

4<  It  is  hot,"  he  assented. 

"  When  it  is  hot,  I  keep  myself  quiet,"  she  went 
on.  "You  seem  to  be  of  another  mind." 

"  I  make  no  difference  for  the  weather." 

"  Don't  you !  What  energy.  Then  you  are  al 
ways  at  work  ?  " 

"Who  said  so?" 


426  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"I  said  so,  as  an  inference.  When  the  weather 
has  been  cool  enough  to  allow  me  to  take  notice,  I 
have  noticed  that  you  were  busy  about  something. 
You  tell  me  now  that  weather  makes  no  difference." 

"  Life  is  too  short  to  allow  weather  to  cut  it 
shorter,"  said  Pitt,  throwing  himself  down  on  a  mat. 
"  I  think  I  have  observed  that  you  too  always  have 
some  work  in  hand,  whenever  I  have  seen  you." 

"  My  work  amounts  to  nothing,"  said  the  young 
lady.  "  At  least,  you  would  say  so,  I  presume." 

"What  is  it?" 

Miss  Betty  displayed  her  roll  of  muslin,  on  the 
free  portion  of  which  an  elegant  line  of  embroidery 
was  slowly  growing,  multiplying  and  reproducing 
its  white  buds  and  leaves  and  twining  shoots.  Pitt 
regarded  it  with  an  unenlightened  eye. 

"  I  am  as  wise  as  I  was  before,"  he  said. 

"  Why  look  here,"  said  the  young  lady,  with  a 
slight  movement  of  her  little  foot  calling  his  atten 
tion  to  the  edge  of  her  skirt,  wnere  a  somewhat 
similar  line  of  embroidery  was  visible.  "  I  am 
making  a  border  for  another  gown." 

Pitt's  eye  went  from  the  one  embroidery  to  the 
other;  he  said  nothing. 

"You  are  not  complimentary,"  said  Miss  Frere. 

"  I  am  not  yet  sure  that  there  is  anything  to 
compliment." 

The  young  lady  gave  him  a  full  view  of  her  fine 
eyes  for  half  a  second ;  or  perhaps  it  was  only  that 
they  took  a  good  look  at  him. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  she  said,  "  that  it  is  economy, 


HOLIDAYS.  427 

and  thrift,  and  all  the  household  virtues?  Not 
having  the  money  to  buy  trimming,  I  am  manu 
facturing  it." 

"  And  the  gown  must  be  trimmed  ?  " 

"  Unquestionably !  You  would  not  like  it  so  well 
if  it  were  not." 

"  That  is  possible.     The  question  remains — " 

"  What  question  ?  " 

"  Whether  Life  is  not  worth  more  than  a  bit  of 
trimming." 

"  Life !  "  echoed  the  young  lady  a  little  scorn 
fully.  "  An  hour  now  and  then  is  not  Life." 

"It  is  the  stuff  of  which  Life  is  made." 

"  What  is  Life  good  for  ?  " 

"That  is  precisely  the  weightiest  question  that 
can  occupy  the  mind  of  a  philosopher  !  " 

"  Are  you  a  philosopher,  Mr.  Dallas  ?  " 

"In  so  far  as  a  philosopher  means  a  lover  of 
knowledge.  A  philosopher  who  has  attained  unto 
knowledge,  I  am  not; — that  sort  of  knowledge." 

"You  have  been  studying  it?" 

"  I  have  been  studying  it  for  years." 

"What  Life  is  good  for?"  said  the  young  lady, 
with  again  a  lift  of  her  eyes  which  expressed  a 
little  disdain  and  a  little  impatience.  But  she 
saw  Pitt's  face  with  a  thoughtful  earnestness  upon 
it;  he  was  not  watching  her  eyes,  as  he  ought  to 
have  been.  Her  somewhat  petulant  words  he  an 
swered  simply. 

"What  question  of  more  moment  can  there  be? 
I  am  here,  a  human  creature  with  such  and  such 


428  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

powers  and  capacities;  I  am  here  for  so  many  years, 
not  numerous ;  what  is  the  best  thing  I  can  do  with 
them  and  myself  ?  " 

"Get  all  the  good  out  of  them  you  can." 

"  Certainly  ! — but  you  observe  that  is  no  answer 
to  my  question  of  'how.'  " 

"Good  is  pleasure,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"Is  it?" 

"  I  think  so." 

"Make  pleasure  lasting,  and  perhaps  I  should 
agree  with  you.  But  how  can  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  You  cannot  do  it,  that  ever  I  heard.  It  is  not 
in  the  nature  of  things." 

"  Then  what  is  the  good  of  pleasure  when  it  is 
over,  and  you  have  given  your  Life  for  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  Pleasure  won't  do,  take  Greatness  then." 

"  What  sort  of  Greatness  ? "  Pitt  asked  in  the 
same  tone.  It  was  the  tone  of  one  who  had  gone 
over  the  ground. 

"Any  sort  will  do,  I  suppose,"  said  Miss  Frere 
with  half  a  laugh.  "The  thing  is,  I  believe,  to  be 
great,  no  matter  how.  I  never  had  that  ambition 
myself;  but  that  is  the  idea,  isn't  it?  " 

"  What  is  it  worth,  supposing  it  gained  ?  " 

"  People  seem  to  think  it  is  worth  a  good  deal, 
by  the  efforts  they  make  and  the  things  they  un 
dergo  for  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Pitt  thoughtfully, — "they  pay  a  great 
price,  and  they  have  their  reward.  And  I  say, 
what  is  it  worth  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Dallas,"  said  the  young  lady  throw- 


HOLIDAYS.  429 

ing  up  her  head,  "it  is  worth  a  great  deal;  all  it 
costs.  To  be  noble,  to  be  distinguished,  to  be  great 
and  remembered  in  the  world, — what  is  a  worthy 
ambition  if  that  is  not  ?  " 

"That  is  the  general  opinion ;  but  what  is  it  worth, 
when  all  is  done  ?  Name  any  great  man  you  think 
of  as  specially  great — " 

"Napoleon  Buonaparte,"  said  the  young  lady 
immediately. 

"  Do  not  name  him"  said  Pitt.  "  He  wore  a 
brilliant  crown,  but  he  got  it  out  of  the  dirt  of  low 
passions  and  cold-hearted  selfishness.  His  name 
will  be  remembered,  but  as  a  splendid  example  of 
wickedness.  Name  some  other." 

"  Name  one  yourself,"  said  Betty.  "  I  have  suc 
ceeded  so  ill." 

"Name  them  all,"  said  Pitt.  "Take  all  the  con 
querors,  from  Rameses  the  great  down  to  our  time; 
take  all  the  statesmen,  from  Moses  arid  onward. 
Take  Apelles  at  the  head  of  a  long  list  of  wonderful 
painters;  philosophers,  from  Socrates  to  Francis 
Bacon;  discoverers  and  inventors,  from  the  man 
who  first  made  musical  instruments,  in  the  lifetime 
of  Adam  our  forefather,  to  Watt  and  the  steam  en 
gine.  Take  any  or  all  of  them ;  ive  are  very  glad 
they  lived  and  worked,  we  are  the  better  for  remem 
bering  them ;  but  I  ask  you,  what  are  they  the  bet 
ter  for  it?" 

This  appeal,  which  was  evidently  meant  in  deep 
earnest,  moved  the  mind  of  the  young  lady  with  so 
great  astonishment  that  she  looked  at  Pitt  as  at  a 


430  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

lusus  natures.  But  he  was  quite  serious  and  simply 
matter-of-fact  in  his  way  of  putting  things.  He 
looked  at  her,  waiting  for  an  answer,  but  got  none. 

"  We  speak  of  Alexander,  and  praise  him  to  the 
skies ;  him  of  Macedon,  I  mean.  What  is  that,  do 
you  think,  to  Alexander  now  ?  " 

"  If  it  is  nothing  to  him,  then  what  is  the  use  of 
being  great  ?  "  said  Miss  Frere  in  her  bewilderment. 

"  You  are  coming  back  to  my  question." 

There  ensued  a  pause,  during  which  the  stitches 
of  embroidery  were  taken  slowly. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  your  life,  Mr. 
Dallas,  since  pleasure  and  fame  are  ruled  out  ?  "  the 
young  lady  asked. 

"You  see,  that  decision  waits  on  the  previous 
question,"  he  answered. 

"  But  it  has  got  to  be  decided,"  said  Miss  Frere, 
"  or  you  will  be — " 

"  Nothing.     Yes,  I  am  aware  of  that." 

There  was  again  a  pause. 

"Miss  Frere,"  Pitt  then  began  again, — "did  you 
ever  see  a  person  whose  happiness  rested  on  a  last 
ing  foundation  ?  " 

The  young  lady  looked  at  her  companion  anew 
as  if  he  were  to  her  a  very  odd  character. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  mean,  a  person  who  was  thoroughly  happy, 
not  because  of  circumstances  but  in  spite  of  them  ?" 

"  To  begin  with,  I  never  saw  anybody  that  was 
'thoroughly  happy.'  I  do  not  believe  in  the  ex 
perience." 


HOLIDAYS,  431 

"  I  am  obliged  to  believe  in  it.  I  have  known  a 
person,  who  seemed  to  be  clean  lifted  up  out  of  the 
mud  and  mire  of  troublesome  circumstances,  and 
to  have  got  up  to  a  region  of  permanent  clear  air 
md  sunshine.  I  have  been  envying  that  person 
ever  since." 

"  May  I  ask,  was  it  a  man  or  a  woman  ?  " 

"Neither;  it  was  a  young  girl." 

"  It  is  easy  to  be  happy  at  that  age." 

"Not  for  her.     She  had  been  very  unhappy." 

"  And  got  over  it." 

"  Yes,  but  not  by  virtue  of  her  youth  or  childish 
ness,  as  you  suppose.  She  was  one  of  those  natures 
that  are  born  with  a  great  capacity  for  suffering, 
and  she  had  begun  to  find  it  out  early;  and  it  was 
from  the  depths  of  unhappiness  that  she  came  out 
into  clear  and  peaceful  sunshine;  with  nothing  to 
help  her  either  in  her  external  surroundings." 

"Couldn't  you  follow  her  steps  and  attain  her 
experience  ?  "  asked  Miss  Frere  mockingly. 

Pitt  rose  up  from  the  mat  where  he  had  been 
lying,  laughed,  and  shook  himself. 

"  As  you  will  not  go  to  drive,"  he  said,  "  I  believe 
I  will  go  alone." 

But  he  went  on  horseback,  and  rode  hard. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ANTIQUITIES. 

AS  Pitt  went  off,  Mrs.  Dallas  came  on  the  verandah. 
"  You  would  not  go  to  drive  ?  "  she  said  to 
Betty. 

"  It  is  so  hot,  dear  Mrs.  Dallas !  I  had  what  was 
much  better  than  a  drive — a  good  long  talk." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  boy  ?  "  asked  the  mo 
ther,  with  an  accent  of  happy  confidence  in  which 
there  was  also  a  vibration  of  pride. 

"He  puzzles  me.  Has  he  not  some  peculiar 
opinions  V  " 

"  Have  you  found  that  out  already  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Dallas  with  a  change  of  tone.  "That  shews  he 
must  Like  you  very  much,  Betty;  my  son  is  not 
given  to  letting  himself  out  on  those  subjects. 
Even  to  me  he  very  seldom  speaks  of  them." 

"  What  subjects  do  you  mean,  dear  Mrs.  Dallas?  " 
inquired  the  young  lady  softly. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas  uneasily  and  hesita 
ting,  "some  sort  of  religious  questions.  I  told 
you,  he  had  had  to  do  at  one  time  with  dissenting 

people,  and  I  think  their  influence  has  been  bad 
(432) 


ANTIQUITIES.  433 

for  him.  I  hoped,  in  England  he  would  forget  all 
that,  and  become  a  true  Churchman.  What  did  he 
say?" 

"Nothing  about  the  Church,  or  about  religion. 
I  do  not  believe  it  would  be  easy  for  any  one  to 
influence  him,  Mrs.  Dallas." 

"  You  can  do  it,  Betty,  if  any  one.  I  am  hoping 
in  you." 

The  young  lady,  as  I  have  intimated,  was  not 
averse  to  the  task,  all  the  rather  that  it  promised 
some  difficulty.  All  the  rather,  too,  that  she  was 
stimulated  by  the  idea  of  counter  influence.  She 
recalled  more  than  once  what  Pitt  had  said  of  that 
"young  girl,"  and  tried  to  make  out  what  had  been 
in  his  tone  at  the  time.  No  passion  certainly;  he 
had  spoken  easily  and  frankly;  too  easily  to  favour 
the  supposition  of  any  very  deep  feeling;  and  yet, 
not  without  a  certain  cadence  of  tenderness,  and 
undoubtedly  with  the  confidence  of  intimate  knowl 
edge.  Undoubtedly  also,  the  influence  of  that 
young  person,  whatever  its  nature,  had  not  died 
out.  Miss  Betty  had  little  question  in  her  own 
mind  that  she  must  have  been  one  of  the  persons 
referred  to  and  dreaded  by  Mrs.  Dallas  as  dissent 
ers;  and  the  young  lady  determined  to  do  what 
she  could  in  the  case.  She  had  a  definite  point  of 
resistance  now,  and  felt  stronger  for  the  fray. 

The  fray,  however,  could  not  be  immediately  en 
tered  upon.  Pitt  departed  to  New  York,  avowedly 
to  look  up  the  Gainsboroughs.  And  there,  as  two 
years  before,  he  spent  unwearied  pains  in  pursuit 


434  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

of  his  object;  also  as  then,  in  vain.  He  returned 
after  more  than  a  week  of  absence,  a  baffled  man. 
His  arrival  was  just  in  time  to  allow  him  to  sit 
down  to  dinner  with  the  family;  so  that  Betty 
heard  his  report. 

"  Have  you  found  the  Gainsboroughs  ? "  his 
father  asked. 

"No  sir." 

"  Where  did  you  look  ?  " 

"Everywhere." 

"  What  have  you  done  ?  "  his  mother  asked. 

"  Everything." 

"  I  told  yon,  I  thought  they  were  gone  back  to 
England." 

"  If  they  are,  there  is  no  sign  of  it,  and  I  do  not 
believe  it.  I  have  spent  hours  and  hours  at  the 
shipping  offices,  looking  over  the  lists  of  passengers; 
and  of  one  thing  I  am  certain;  they  have  not  sailed 
from  that  port  this  year." 

"  Not  under  the  name  by  which  you  know  them." 

"And  not  under  any  other.  Col.  Gainsborough 
was  not  a  man  to  hide  his  head  under  an  alias. 
But  they  know  nothing  of  any  Col.  Gainsborough 
at  the  Post  Office." 

"That  is  strange." 

"They  never  had  many  letters,  you  know,  sir; 
and  the  colonel  had  given  up  his  English  paper. 
I  think  I  know  all  the  people  that  take  the  Lon 
don  'Times'  in  New  York;  and  he  is  not  one  of 
them." 

"  He  is  gone  home,"  said  Mr.  Dallas  comfortably. 


ANTIQUITIES.  435 

"  I  can  find  that  out  when  I  go  back  to  England ; 
and  I  will." 

Miss  Betty  said  nothing  and  asked  never  a  word, 
but  she  lost  none  of  all  this.  Pitt  was  becoming 
a  problem  to  her.  All  this  eagerness  and  pains 
taking  would  seem  to  look  towards  some  very  close 
relations  between  the  young  man  and  these  missing 
people;  yet  Pitt  shewed  no  annoyance  nor  signs 
of  trouble  at  missing  them.  Was  it  that  he  did 
not  really  care  ?  was  it  that  he  had  not  accepted 
failure  and  did  not  mean  to  fail  ?  In  either  case, 
he  must  be  a  peculiar  character,  and  in  either  case 
there  was  brought  to  light  an  uncommon  strength 
of  determination.  There  is  hardly  anything  which 
women  like  better  in  the  other  sex  than  force  of 
character.  Not  because  it  is  a  quality  in  which 
their  own  sex  is  apt  to  be  lacking;  on  the  contrary; 
but  because  it  gives  a  woman  what  she  wants  in 
a  man, — something  to  lean  upon  and  somebody  to 
look  up  to.  Miss  Betty  found  herself  getting  more 
and  more  interested  in  Pitt  and  in  her  charge  con 
cerning  him;  how  it  was  to  be  executed,  she  did 
not  yet  see;  she  must  leave  that  to  chance.  Noth 
ing  could  be  forced  here.  Where  liking  begins  to 
grow,  there  also  begins  fear. 

She  retreated  to  the  verandah  after  dinner  with 
her  embroidery.  By  and  by  Mrs.  Dallas  came 
there  too.  It  was  a  pleasant  place  in  the  after 
noon,  for  the  sun  was  on  the  other  side  of  the 
house,  and  the  sea  breeze  swept  this  way,  giving 
its  saltness  to  the  odours  of  rose  and  honeysuckle 


436  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

and  mignonette.  Mrs.  Dallas  sat  down  and  took 
her  knitting;  then,  before  a  word  could  be  ex 
changed,  they  were  joined  by  Pitt.  That  is,  he 
came  on  the  verandah;  but  for  some  time  there 
was  no  talking.  The  ladies  would  not  begin,  and 
Pitt  did  not.  His  attention,  wherever  it  might  be, 
was  not  given  to  his  companions;  he  sat  thought 
ful,  and  determinately  silent.  Mrs.  Dallas's  knit 
ting  needles  clicked,  Miss  Betty's  embroidering 
thread  went  noiselessly  in  and  out.  Bees  hummed 
and  flitted  about  the  honeysuckle  vines;  there  was 
a  soft,  sweet,  luxurious  atmosphere,  to  the  senses 
and  to  the  mind.  This  went  on  for  awhile. 

"Mr.  Pitt,"  said  Miss  Betty,  "you  are  giving  me 
no  help  at  all." 

He  brought  himself  and  his  attention  round  to 
her  at  once,  and  asked  how  he  could  be  of  service. 

"Your  mother,"  began  Miss  Betty,  stitching 
away,  "  has  given  me  a  commission  concerning 
you.  She  desires  me  to  see  to  it  that  ennui  does  not 
creep  upon  you,  during  your  vacation  in  this  unex 
citing  place.  How  do  I  know  but  it  is  creeping 
upon  you  already  ?  and  you  give  me  no  chance  to 
drive  it  away." 

Pitt  laughed  a  little.  "  I  was  never  attacked  by 
ennui  in  my  life,"  he  said. 

"  So  you  do  not  want  my  services !  " 

*'  Not  to  fight  an  enemy  that  is  nowhere  in  sight. 
Perhaps  he  is  your  enemy,  and  I  might  be  helpful 
in  another  way." 

It  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  been  charged  to 


ANTIQUITIES.  437 

make  Miss  Frere's  sojourn  in  Seaforth  pleasant; 
and  some  vague  sense  of  what  this  mutual  charge 
might  mean  dawned  upon  him,  with  a  rising  light 
of  amusement. 

"  1  don't  know  !  "  said  the  young  lady.  "  You 
did  once  propose  a  drive.  If  you  would  propose  it 
again,  perhaps  I  would  go.  We  cannot  help  its 
being  hot  ?  " 

So  they  went  for  a  drive.  The  roads  were  capi 
tal,  the  evening  was  lovely,  the  horses  went  well, 
and  the  phaeton  was  comfortable ;  if  that  were  not 
enough,  it  was  all.  Miss  Frere  bore  it  for  awhile 
patiently. 

"  Do  you  dislike  talking  ?  "  she  asked  at  length 
meekly,  when  a  soft  bit  of  road  and  the  slow 
movement  of  the  horses  gave  her  a  good  oppor 
tunity. 

"I?  Not  at  all!"  said  Pitt,  rousing  himself  as 
out  of  a  muse. 

"  Then  I  wish  you  would  talk.  Mrs.  Dallas  de 
sires  that  I  should  entertain  you;  and  how  am  I  to 
do  that  unless  I  know  you  better  ?  " 

"  So  you  think  people's  characters  come  out  in 
talking  ?  " 

"If  not  their  characters,  at  least  something  of 
what  is  in  their  heads;  what  they  know  and  don't 
know;  what  they  can  talk  about,  in  short." 

"  I  do  not  know  anything — to  talk  about." 

"  0  fie,  Mr.  Dallas  !  you  who  have  been  to  Oxford 
and  London.  Tell  me,  what  is  London  like  ?  An 
overgrown  New  York,  I  suppose." 


438  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"No,  neither.  'Overgrown'  means,  grown  be 
yond  strength  or  usefulness.  London  is  large,  but 
not  overgrown,  in  any  sense." 

"  Well,  like  New  York,  only  larger  ?  " 

"No  more  than  a  mushroom  is  like. a  great  old 
oak.  London  is  like  that;  an  old  oak,  gnarled  and 
twisted  and  weather-worn,  with  plenty  of  hale  life 
and  young  vigour  springing  out  of  its  rugged  old 
roots." 

"  That  sounds — poetical." 

"  If  you  mean,  not  true,  you  are  under  a  mistake." 

"  Then  it  seems  you  know  London  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  do;  better  than  many  of  those  who 
live  in  it.  When  I  am  there,  Miss  Frere,  I  am  with 
an  old  uncle  who  is  an  antiquary  and  an  enthusiast 
on  the  subject  of  his  native  city.  From  the  first  it 
has  been  his  pleasure  to  go  with  me  all  over  London, 
and  tell  me  the  secrets  of  its  old  streets,  and  shew 
me  what  was  worth  looking  at.  London  was  my 
picture  book,  my  theatre,  where  I  saw  tragedy 
and  comedy  together,  my  museum  of  antiquities. 
I  never  tire  of  it,  and  my  uncle  Strahan  is  never 
tired  of  shewing  it  to  me." 

"  Why,  what  is  it  to  see  ?  "  asked  Miss  Frere 
with  some  real  curiosity. 

"  For  one  thing,  it  is  an  epitome  of  English  his 
tory,  strikingly  illustrated." 

"  0  you  mean  Westminster  Abbey !  Yes,  I  have 
heard  of  that,  of  course.  But  I  should  think  that 
was  not  interminable." 

"  I  do  not  mean  Westminster  Abbey." 


ANTIQUITIES.  439 

"  What  then,  please  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  here,"  said  Pitt  smiling,  as 
the  horses,  having  found  firm  ground,  set  off  again 
at  a  gay  trot.  "  Wait  till  we  get  home,  and  I  will 
shew  you  a  map  of  London." 

The  young  lady,  satisfied  with  having  gained 
her  object,  waited  very  patiently;  and  told  Mrs. 
Dallas  on  reaching  home  that  the  drive  had  been 
delightful. 

Next  day  Pitt  was  as  good  as  his  word.  He 
brought  his  map  of  London  into  the  cool  matted 
room  where  the  ladies  were  sitting,  rolled  up  a 
table,  and  spread  the  map  out  before  Miss  Frere. 
The  young  lady  dropped  her  embroidery  and  gave 
her  attention. 

"What  have  you  there,  Pitt?"  his  mother  in 
quired. 

"  London,  mamma." 

"  London  !  " — Mrs.  Dallas  drew  up  her  chair  too, 
where  she  could  look  on ;  while  Pitt  briefly  gave 
an  explanation  of  the  map ;  shewed  where  was  the 
"city"  and  where  the  fashionable  quarter. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Miss  Frere,  studying  the  map, 
"the  parts  of  London  that  delight  you  are  over 
here  ?  " — indicating  the  West  End. 

*'  No,"  returned  Pitt,  "  by  no  means.  The  City 
and  the  Strand  are  infinitely  more  interesting." 

4<  My  dear !  "  said  his  mother, — "  I  do  not  see 
how  that  can  be." 

"  It  is  true  though,  mother.  All  this,"  (drawing 
his  finger  round  a  certain  portion  of  the  map)  "  is 


440  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

crowded  with  the  witnesses  of  human  life  and  his 
tory;  full  of  remains  that  tell  of  the  men  of  the 
past,  and  their  doings,  and  their  sufferings." 

Miss  Frere's  fine  eyes  were  lifted  to  him  in  in 
quiry;  meeting  them  he  smiled,  and  went  on. 

"  I  must  explain.  Where  shall  I  begin  ? — Sup 
pose,  for  instance,  we  take  our  stand  here  at  White- 
h'all.  We  are  looking  at  the  Banqueting  House 
of  the  Palace,  built  by  Inigo  Jones  for  James  the 
First.  The  other  buildings  of  the  palace,  wide 
and  splendid  as  they  were,  have  mostly  perished. 
This  stands  yet.  I  need  not  tell  you  the  thoughts 
that  come  up  as  we  look  at  it." 

"  Charles  the  First  was  executed  there,  I  know. 
What  else?" 

"There  is  a  whole  swarm  of  memories,  and  a 
whole  crowd  of  images,  belonging  to  the  palace  of 
which  this  was  a  part.  Before  the  time  you  speak 
of,  there  was  Cardinal  Wolsey — " 

"  0  Wolsey  !     I  remember." 

"  His  outrageous  luxury  and  pomp  of  living,  and 
his  disgrace.  Then  comes  Henry  VIII.,  and  Anne 
Boleyn,  and  their  marriage;  Henry's  splendours, 
and  his  death.  All  that  was  here.  In  those  days 
the  buildings  of  Whitehall  were  very  extensive, 
and  they  were  further  enlarged  afterwards.  Here 
Elizabeth  held  her  court,  and  here  she  lay  in  state 
after  death.  James  the  First  comes  next;  he  built 
the  Banqueting  House.  And  in  his  son's  time,  the 
royal  magnificence  displayed  at  Whitehall  was  in 
comparable.  All  the  gayeties  and  splendours  and 


ANTIQUITIES.  441 

luxury  of  living  that  then  were  possible,  were 
known  here.  And  here  was  the  scaffold  where  he 
died.  The  next  figure  is  Cromwell's." 

"  Leave  him  out !  "  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  with  a  sort 
of  groan  of  impatience. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  the  next  following,  mam 
ma?  That  is  Charles  the  Second." 

"  He  had  a  right  there  at  least." 

"  He  abused  it." 

"At  least  he  was  a  King,  and  a  gentleman." 

u  If  I  could  shew  you  Whitehall  as  it  was  in  his 
day,  mother,  I  think  you  would  not  want  to  look 
long.  But  I  shall  not  try.  We  will  go  on  to  Char 
ing  Cross.  The  old  palace  extended  once  nearly 
so  far.  Here  is  the  place."  He  pointed  to  a  cer 
tain  spot  on  the  map. 

"  What  is  there  now  ?  "  asked  Betty. 

44  Not  the  old  Cross.  That  is  gone;  but  of  course, 
I  cannot  stand  there  without  in  thought  going  back 
to  Edward  I.  and  his  queen.  In  its  place  is  a  bra 
zen  statue  of  Charles  I.  And  in  fact  when  I  stand 
there  the  winds  seem  to  sweep  down  upon  me  from 
many  a  mountain  peak  of  history.  Edward  and 
his  rugged  greatness,  and  Charles  and  his  weak 
folly;  and  the  Protectorate,  and  the  Restoration. 
For  here,  where  the  statue  stands,  stood  once  the 
gallows  where  Harrison  and  his  companions  were 
executed,  when  'the  king  had  his  own  again.' 
Sometimes  I  can  hardly  see  the  present,  when  I  am 
there,  for  looking  at  the  past." 

44  You  are  enthusiastic,"  said  Miss  Frere.     "  But 


442  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

I  understand  it.  Yes,  that  is  not  like  New  York; 
not  much ! " 

"  What  became  of  the  Cross,  Pitt?  " 

"  Pulled  down,  mother — like  everything  else  in 
its  day." 

"  Who  pulled  it  down  ?  " 

"The  Republicans." 

"The  Republicans  !  Yes,  it  was  like  them  !  "  said 
Mrs.  Dallas.  "Rebellion,  Dissent,  and  a  want  of 
feeling  for  whatever  is  noble  and  refined,  all  go 
together.  That  was  the  Puritans  !  " 

"Pretty  strong!"  said  Pitt.  "And  not  quite 
fair,  either,  is  it?  How  much  feeling  for  what  is 
noble  and  refined  was  there  in  the  court  of  the 
second  Charles  ? — and  how  much  of  either,  if  you 
look  below  the  surface,  was  in  the  policy  or  the 
character  of  the  first  Charles  ?  " 

"  He  did  not  destroy  pictures  and  pull  down 
statues,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas.  u  He  was  at  least  a 
gentleman.  But  the  Puritans  were  a  low  set,  al 
ways.  I  cannot  forgive  them  for  the  work  they 
did  in  England." 

"  You  may  thank  heaven  for  some  of  the  work 
they  did.  But  for  them,  you  would  not  be  here 
to-day,  in  a  land  of  freedom." 

"Too  much  freedom,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas.  "I  be 
lieve  it  is  good  to  have  a  king  over  a  country." 

"  Well,  go  on  from  Charing  Cross,  won't  you," 
said  Miss  Frere.  "  I  am  interested.  I  never  studied 
a  map  of  London  before.  I  am  not  sure  I  ever  saw 


ANTIQUITIES.  443 

"  I  do  not  know  which  way  to  go,"  said  Pitt. 
"Every  step  brings  us  to  new  associations;  every 
street  opens  up  a  chapter  of  history.  Here  is 
Northumberland  House ;  a  grand  old  building,  full 
of  its  records.  Howards  and  Percys  and  Seymours 
have  owned  it  and  built  it;  and  there  General 
Monk  planned  the  bringing  back  of  the  Stuarts. 
Going  along  the  Strand,  every  step  is  full  of  inter 
est.  Just  here  used  to  be  the  palace  of  Sir  Nicholas 
Baron  and  his  son ;  then  James  the  First's  favourite, 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  lived  in  it;  and  the  beau 
tiful  water  gate  is  yet  standing  which  Inigo  Jones 
built  for  him.  All  the  Strand  was  full  of  palaces 
which  have  passed  away,  leaving  behind  the  names 
of  their  owners  in  the  streets  which  remain  or  have 
been  built  since.  Here  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh  lived; 
here  the  Dudleys  had  their  abode,  and  Lady  Jane 
Grey  was  married;  here  was  the  house  of  Lord 
Burleigh.  But  let  us  go  on  to  the  church  of  St. 
Mary-le-Strarid.  Here  once  stood  a  great  Maypole, 
round  which  there  used  to  be  merry  doings.  The 
Puritans  took  that  down  too,  mother." 

"What  for?" 

"They  held  it  to  be  in  some  sort  a  relic  of 
heathen  manners.  Then  under  Charles  II.  it  was 
set  up  again.  And  here,  once,  four  thousand  chil- 
dred  were  gathered  and  sang  a  hymn,  on  some 
public  occasion  of  triumph  in  Queen  Anne's  reign." 

"  It  is  not  there  now?  " 

"  O  no  !  It  was  given  to  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  and 
made  to  subserve  the  uses  of  a  telescope." 


444  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  How  do  you  know  all  these  things,  Mr.  Pitt." 

"  Every  London  antiquary  knows  them,  I  sup 
pose.  And  I  told  you,  I  have  an  old  uncle  who  is 
a  great  antiquary;  London  is  his  particular  hobby." 

44  He  must  have  had  an  apt  scholar,  though." 

44  Much  liking  makes  good  learning,  I  suppose," 
said  the  young  man.  4t  A  little  further  on  is  the 
church  of  St.  Clement  Danes,  where  Dr.  John 
son  used  to  attend  divine  service.  About  here 
stands  Temple  Bar." 

44  Temple  Bar !  "  said  Miss  Frere.  44 1  have  heard 
of  Temple  Bar  all  my  life,  and  never  connected 
any  clear  idea  with  the  name.  What  is  Temple 
Bar?" 

44  It  is  not  very  much  of  a  building.  It  is  the 
barrier  which  marks  the  bound  of  the  city  of 
London." 

"  Isn't  it  London  on  both  sides  of  Temple  Bar?" 

44  London,  but  not  the  City.  The  City  proper 
begins  here.  On  the  west  of  this  limit  is,  West 
minster." 

44  There  are  ugly  associations  with  Temple  Bar, 
I  know,"  said  Miss  Frere. 

"There  are  ugly  associations  with  everything. 
Down  here  stood  Essex  House,  where  Essex  de 
fended  himself,  and  from  which  he  was  carried  off 
to  the  Tower.  There,  in  Lincoln's  Inn  fields,  Thomas 
Babington  and  his  party  died  for  high  treason,  and 
there  Russell  died.  And  just  up  here  is  Smithfield. 
It  is  all  over,  the  record  of  violence,  intolerance, 
and  brutality.  It  meets  you  at  every  turn." 


ANTIQUITIES.  445 

"  It  is  only  what  would  be  in  any  other  place  as 
old  as  London,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas.  "  In  old  times 
people  were  rough,  of  course,  but  they  were  rough 
everywhere." 

"  I  was  thinking, — "  said  Miss  Frere.  "  Mr.  Dal 
las  gives  a  somewhat  singular  justification  of  his 
liking  for  London." 

"Is  it?"  said  Pitt.  "It  would  be  singular,  if 
the  violence  were  there  now;  but  to  read  the  record 
and  look  on  the  scene  is  interesting,  and  for  me 
fascinating.  The  record  is  of  other  things  too. 
See, — in  this  place  Milton  lived  and  wrote;  here, 
Franklin  abode;  here  Charles  Lamb;  from  an  inn 
in  this  street  Bishop  Hooper  went  away  to  die. 
And  so  I  might  go  on  and  on.  At  every  step 
there  is  the  memorial  of  some  great  man's  life,  or 
some  noted  man's  death.  And  with  all  that,  there 
are  also  the  most  exquisite  bits  of  material  anti 
quity.  Old  picturesque  houses ;  old  crypts  of  former 
churches,  over  which  stands  now  a  modern  repre 
sentative  of  the  name;  old  monuments,  many;  old 
doorways,  and  courts,  and  corners,  and  gateways. 
Come  over  to  London,  and  I  will  take  you  down 
into  the  crypt  of  St.  Paul's,  and  shew  you  how  his 
tory  is  presented  to  you  there." 

"  The  crypt  ? "  said  Miss  Frere,  doubting  some 
what  of  this  invitation. 

"  Yes,  the  old  monuments  are  in  the  crypt." 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  "  I  do  not  under 
stand  how  all  these  things  you  have  been  talking 
about  should  have  so  much  charm  for  you.  I 


446  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

should  think  the  newer  and  handsomer  parts  of 
the  city,  the  parks  and  the  gardens,  and  the  fine 
squares,  would  be  a  great  deal  more  agreeable." 

"To  live  in,  mother." 

"And  don't  you  go  to  the  British  Museum,  and 
to  the  Tower,  and  to  Hyde  Park  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  there  hundreds  of  times." 

"  And  like  these  old  corners  still  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  the  Museum." 

"  There  is  nothing  like  that  is  this  country,"  said 
Mrs.  Dallas  with  an  accent  of  satisfaction. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
INTEKPKETATIONS. 

MISS  BETTY  hereupon  begged  to  be  told  more 
distinctly  what  was  in  the  British  Museum, 
that  anybody  should  go  there  u  hundreds  of  times." 
Pitt  presently  got  warm  in  his  subject,  and  talked 
long  and  well;  as  many  people  will  do  when  they 
are  full  of  their  theme,  even  when  they  can  talk 
upon  nothing  else.  Pitt  was  not  one  of  those  peo 
ple;  he  could  talk  well  upon  anything;  and  now 
he  made  himself  certainly  very  entertaining.  His 
mother  thought  so,  who  cared  nothing  for  the 
British  Museum  except  in  so  far,  that  it  was  a 
great  institution  of  an  old  country,  which  a  young 
country  could  not  rival.  She  listened,  to  Pitt.  Miss 
Betty  gave  him  even  more  profound  interest  and 
unflagging  attention;  whether  she  too  were  not 
studying  the  speaker  full  as  much  as  the  things 
spoken,  I  will  not  say.  They  had  a  very  pleas 
ant  morning  of  it;  conversation  diverging  some 
times  to  Assyria  and  Egypt,  and  ancient  civiliza 
tions  and  arts,  and  civilization  in  general.  Mrs. 
Dallas  gradually  drew  back  from  mingling  in  the 

(447) 


448  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

talk,  and  watched,  well  pleased,  to  see  how  eager 
the  two  other  speakers  became  and  how  they  were 
lost  in  their  subject  and  in  each  other. 

In  the  afternoon  there  was  another  drive,  to 
which  Pitt  did  not  need  to  be  stimulated;  and  all 
the  evening  the  two  young  people  were  busy  with 
something  which  engaged  them  both.  Mrs.  Dallas 
breathed  freer. 

**  I  think  he  is  smitten,"  she  said  privately  to  her 
husband.  "How  could  he  help  it?  He  has  seen 
nobody  else  to  be  smitten  with." 

But  Betty  Frere  was  not  sure  of  any  such  thing ; 
and  the  very  fact  of  Pitt's  disengagedness  made 
him  more  ensnaring  to  her.  There  was  nobody 
else  in  the  village  to  divert  his  attention,  and  the 
two  young  people  were  thrown  very  much  together. 
They  went  driving,  they  rode,  and  they  talked, 
continually.  The  map  of  London  was  often  out, 
and  Mrs.  Dallas  saw  the  two  heads  bent  over  it, 
and  interested  faces  looking  into  each  other;  and 
she  thought  things  were  going  on  very  fairly.  If 
only  the  vacation  were  not  so  short !  For  only  a  little 
time  more,  and  Pitt  must  be  back  at  his  chambers 
in  London.  The  mother  sighed  to  herself.  She 
was  paying  rather  a  heavy  price  to  keep  her  son 
from  Dissenters ! 

Betty  Frere  too  remembered  that  the  vacation 
was  coming  to  an  end,  and  drew  her  breath  rather 
short.  She  was  depending  on  Pitt  too  much  for 
her  amusement,  she  told  herself,  and  to  be  sure 
there  were  other  young  men  in  the  world  that 


INTERPRETATIONS.  449 

could  talk;  but  she  felt  a  sort  of  disgust  at  the 
thought  of  them  all.  They  were  not  near  so  inter 
esting.  They  all  flattered  her;  and  some  of  them 
were  supposed  to  be  brilliant ;  but  Betty  turned  from 
the  thought  of  them  to  the  one  whose  lips  never 
condescended  to  say  pretty  things,  nor  made  any 
effort  to  say  witty  things.  They  behaved  towards 
her  with  a  sort  of  obsequious  reverence,  which  was 
the  fashion  of  that  day  much  more  than  of  this; 
and  Betty  liked  far  better  a  manner  which  never 
made  pretence  of  anything,  was  thoroughly  natural 
and  perfectly  well-bred,  but  which  frankly  paid 
more  honour  to  his  mother  than  to  herself.  She 
admired  Pitt's  behaviour  to  his  mother.  Even 
to  his  mother  it  had  less  formality  than  was  the 
custom  of  the  day;  while  it  gave  her  every  delicate 
little  attention  and  every  possible  graceful  obser 
vance.  The  young  beauty  had  sense  enough  to 
see  that  this  promised  more  for  Pitt's  future  wife 
than  any  amount  of  civil  subserviency  to  herself. 
Perhaps  there  is  not  a  quality  which  women  value 
more  in  a  man,  or  miss  more  sorely,  than  what  we 
express  by  the  term  manliness.  And  she  saw  that 
Pitt,  while  he  was  enthusiastic  and  eager,  and  what 
she  called  fanciful,  always  was  true,  honest,  and 
firm  in  what  he  thought  right.  From  that  no 
fancy  carried  him  away. 

And  Miss  Betty  found  the  days  pass  with  almost 
as  much  charm  as  fleetness.  How  fleet  they  were 
she  did  not  bear  to  think.  She  found  herself 
recognizing  Pitt's  step,  distinguishing  his  voice  in 


450  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

the  distance,  and  watching  for  the  one  and  the 
other.  Why  not  ?  He  was  so  pleasant  as  a  com 
panion.  But  she  found  herself  also  starting  when 
he  appeared  suddenly,  thrilled  at  the  unexpected 
sound  of  his  voice,  and  conscious  of  quickened 
pulses  when  he  came  into  the  room.  Betty  did 
not  like  these  signs  in  herself;  at  the  same  time 
that  which  had  wrought  the  spell  continued  to 
work,  and  the  spell  was  not  broken.  In  justice  to 
the  young  lady  I  must  say  that  there  was  not  the 
slightest  outward  token  of  it.  Betty  was  as  utterly 
calm  and  careless  in  her  manner  as  Pitt  himself; 
so  that  even  Mrs.  Dallas,  and  a  woman  in  those 
matters  sees  far,  could  not  tell  whether  either  or 
bqth  of  the  young  people  had  a  liking  for  the 
other  more  than  the  social  good-fellowship  which 
was  frank  and  apparent.  It  might  be;  and  she 
confessed  also  to  herself  that  it  might  not  be. 

"  You  must  give  that  fellow  time" — said  her  hus 
band.  Which  Mrs.  Dallas  knew,  if  she  had  not 
been  so  much  in  a  hurry. 

"  If  he  met  those  Gainsboroughs  by  chance,  I 
would  not  answer  for  anything,"  she  said. 

"  How  should  he  meet  them  ?  They  are  prob 
ably  as  poor  as  rats,  and  have  drawn  into  some 
corner;  out  of  the  way.  He  will  never  see  them." 

"  Pitt  is  so  persistent !  "  said  Mrs.  Dallas  uneasily. 

"  He'll  be  back  in  England  in  a  few  weeks." 

"  But  when  he  comes  again ! — " 

"  He  shall  not  come  again.  We  will  go  over  to 
see  him  ourselves  next  year." 


INTERPRETATIONS.  451 

"  That  is  a  very  good  thought,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas. 

And  comforted  by  this  thought  and  the  plans  she 
presently  began  to  weave  in  with  it,  she  looked 
now  with  much  more  equanimity  than  Betty  her 
self  towards  the  end  of  Pitt's  visit.  Mrs.  Dallas 
however  was  not  to  get  off  without  another  shock 
to  her  nerves. 

It  was  early  in  September,  and  the  weather  of 
that  sultry,  hot  and  moist  character  which  we 
have  learned  to  look  for  in  connection  with  the 
first  Jualf  of  that  month.  Miss  Frere's  embroidery 
went  languidly;  possibly  there  might  have  been 
more  reasons  than  one  for  the  slow  and  spiritless 
movement  of  her  fingers,  which  was  quite  contrary 
to  their  normal  habit.  Mrs.  Dallas,  sitting  at  a 
little  distance  on  the  verandah,  wras  near  enough 
to  hear  and  observe  what  went  on  when  Pitt  came 
upon  the  scene,  and  far  enough  to  be  separated 
from  the  conversation  unless  she  chose  to  mix  in 
it.  By  and  by  he  came,  looking  thoughtful,  as 
Betty  saw,  though  she  hardly  seemed  to  notice  his 
approach.  There  was  no  token  in  her  quiet  man 
ner  of  the  quickened  pulses  of  which  she  was 
immediately  conscious.  Something  like  a  trem 
ulous  thrill  ran  through  her  nerves ;  it  vexed  her 
to  be  so  little  mistress  of  them;  yet  the  pleasure  of 
the  thrill  at  the  moment  was  more  than  the  pain. 
Pitt  threw  himself  into  a  chair  near  her,  and  for 
a  few  moments  watched  the  play  of  her  needle. 
Betty's  eyelashes  never  stirred.  But  the  silence 
lasted  too  long.  Nerves  would  not  bear  it. 


452  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  What  can  you  find  to  do  in  this  weather,  Mr. 
Pitt  ?  "  she  asked  languidly. 

"  It  is  good  weather,"  he  answered  absently. 
"  Do  you  ever  read  the  Bible  ?  " 

Miss  Betty's  fine  eyes  were  lifted  now  with  an 
expression  of  some  amusement.  They  were  very 
fine  eyes;  Mrs.  Dallas  thought  they  could  not  fail 
of  their  effect. 

"  The  Bible  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  I  read  the  lessons 
in  the  Prayer-book;  that  is  the  same." 

"  Is  it  the  same  ?  Is  the  whole  Bible  contained 
in  the  Lessons  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure,"  she  answered  doubt 
fully.  "  I  think  so.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  it." 

"  But  you  read  it  piecemeal  so." 

u  You  must  read  it  piecemeal  any  way,"  returned 
the  young  lady.  "  You  can  read  only  a  little  each 
day;  a  portion." 

"  You  could  read  consecutively,  though ;  or  you 
could  choose  for  yourself." 

"I  like  to  have  the  choice  made  for  me.  It 
saves  time ;  and  then  one  is  sure  one  has  got  hold 
of  the  right  portion,  you  know.  0  I  like  the 
lessons." 

"  And  then,"  remarked  Mrs.  Dallas,  "  you  know 
other  people  and  your  friends  are  reading  that 
same  portion  at  the  same  time ;  and  the  feeling  is 
very  sacred  and  sweet." 

"But  if  the  Bible  was  intended  to  be  read  in 
such  a  way,  how  comes  it  that  we  have  no  in 
struction  to  that  end  ?  " 


INTERPRETATIONS.  453 

"Instruction  was  given,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas.  "The 
Church  has  ordered  it." 

"  The  Church—"  said  Pitt  thoughtfully.  "  Who 
is  the  Church  ?  " 

"Why  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  "don't  ask 
such  questions.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do." 

"As  I  understand  it,  mother,  what  you  mean  is  sim 
ply  a  body  of  Christians  who  lived  some  time  ago." 

"  Yes.— Well,  what  then  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  comprehend  how  they  should  know 
what  you  and  I  want  to  read  to-day.  I  am  not 
talking  of  Church  services.  I  am  talking  of  pri 
vate  reading." 

"  But  it  is  pleasant,  and  convenient,"  said  Betty. 

"  May  be  very  inappropriate." 

"Pitt,"  said  his  mother,  "I  wish  you  would  not 
talk  so !  It  is  really  very  wrong.  This  comes  of 
your  way  of  questioning  and  reasoning  about 
everything.  What  we  have  to  do  with  the  Church 
is  to  obey.'" 

"  And  that  is  what  we  have  to  do  with  the  Bible, 
isn't  it  ?  "  he  said  gravely. 

"Undoubtedly." 

"  Well,  mother,  I  am  not  talking  to  you ;  I  am 
attacking  Miss  Frere.  I  can  talk  to  her  on  even 
terms.  Miss  Frere,  I  want  to  know  what  you  un 
derstand  by  obeying,  when  we  are  speaking  of  the 
demands  of  the  Bible  ?  " 

"Obeying?  1  understand  just  what  I  mean  by 
it  anywhere." 

"  Obeying  what  ?  " 


454  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Why  ! — Obeying  God,  of  course." 

"  Of  course !  But  how  do  we  know  what  his 
commands  are  ?  " 

"  By  the  words — how  else  ?  "  she  asked,  looking 
at  him.  He  was  in  earnest,  for  some  reason,  she 
saw,  and  she  forbore  from  the  light  words  with 
which  at  another  time  she  would  have  given  a  turn 
to  the  subject. 

"  Then  you  think,  distinctly,  that  we  ought  to 
obey  the  words  of  the  Bible  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said,  wondering  what  was  coming. 

11  All  the  words?" 

"  Ye — s,  I  suppose  so.  All  the  words,  according 
to  their  real  meaning." 

"  How  are  we  to  know  what  that  is  ?  " 

"  I  suppose — the  Church  tells  us." 

"Where?" 

"  I  do  not  know — in  books,  I  suppose." 

"  What  books  ?  But  we  are  going  a  little  wild. 
May  I  bring  you  an  instance  or  two  ?  I  am  talk 
ing  in  earnest,  and  mean  it  earnestly." 

"  Do  you  ever  do  anything  in  any  other  way  ?  " 
asked  the  young  lady,  with  a  charming  air  of  fine 
raillery  and  recognition  blended.  "Certainly;  I 
am  in  earnest  too." 

Pitt  went  away  and  returned  with  a  book  in  his 
hand. 

"  What  have  you  there?  the  Prayer-book?"  his 
mother  asked  with  a  doubtful  expression. 

"No,  mamma;  I  like  to  go  to  the  Fountain  head 
of  authority  as  well  as  of  learning." 


INTERPRETATIONS.  455 

"The  Fountain  head!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dallas, 
in  indignant  protest;  and  then  she  remembered 
her  wisdom  and  said  no  more.  It  cost  her  an  ef 
fort;  however  she  knew  that  for  her  to  set  np  a 
defence  of  either  Church  or  Prayer-book  just  then 
would  not  be  wise,  and  that  she  had  better  leave 
the  matter  in  Betty's  hands.  She  looked  at  Betty 
anxiously.  The  young  lady's  face  shewed  her 
cool  and  collected,  not  likely  to  be  carried  away 
by  any  stream  of  enthusiasm  or  overborne  by  in 
fluence,  it  was  in  fact  more  cool  than  she  felt. 
She  liked  to  get  into  a  good  talk  with  Pitt  upon 
any  subject,  and  so  far  was  content;  at  the  same 
time  she  would  rather  have  chosen  any  other  than 
this,  and  was  a  little  afraid  whereto  it  might  lead. 
Eeligion  had  not  been  precisely  her  principal  study. 
True,  it  had  not  been  his  principal  study  either; 
but  Betty  discerned  a  difference  in  their  modes 
of  approaching  it.  She  attributed  that  to  the 
Puritan  or  Dissenting  influences  which  had  at 
gome  time  got  hold  of  him.  To  thwart  those  would 
at  any  rate  be  a  good  work,  and  she  prepared 
herself  accordingly. 

Pitt  opened  his  book  and  turned  over  a  few 
leaves. 

"To  begin  with,"  he  said,  "you  admit  that  what 
ever  this  book  commands  we  are  bound  to  obey  ?  " 

"  Provided  we  understand  it, — "  his  opponent 
put  in. 

"  Provided  we  understand  it,  of  course.  A  com 
mand  not  understood  is  hardly  a  command.  Now 


456  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

here  is  a  word  which  has  struck  me,  and  I  would 
like  to  know  how  it  strikes  you." 

He  turned  to  the  familiar  twenty-fifth  of  Matthew 
and  read  the  central  portion,  the  parable  of  the 
talents.  He  read  like  an  interested  man ;  and  per 
haps  it  was  owing  to  a  slight  unconscious  intona 
tion  here  and  there  that  Pitt's  two  hearers  listened 
as  if  the  words  were  strangely  new  to  them.  They 
had  never  heard  them  sound  just  so.  Yet  the  read 
ing  was  not  dramatic  at  all ;  it  was  only  a  perfectly 
natural  and  feeling  deliverance.  But  feeling  reaches 
feeling,  as  we  all  know.  The  reading  ceased,  nobody 
spoke  for  several  minutes. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  asked  Pitt. 

"My  dear,"  said  his  mother,  "can  there  be  a 
question  what  it  means  ?  The  words  are  perfectly 
simple,  it  seems  to  me." 

"Mamma,  I  'am  not  talking  to  you.  You  may 
sit  as  judge  and  arbiter;  but  it  is  Miss  Frere  and  I 
who  are  disputing.  She  will  have  the  goodness  to 
answer." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  answer,"  said  the  young 
lady.  "Are  not  the  words,  as  Mrs.  Dallas  says, 
perfectly  plain?" 

"  Then  surely  it  cannot  be  difficult  to  say  what 
the  teaching  of  them  is  ?  " 

If  it  was  not  difficult,  the  continued  silence  of 
the  lady  was  remarkable.  She  made  no  further 
answer. 

"Are  they  so  plain  ?  I  have  been  puzzling  over 
them.  I  will  divide  the  question,  and  perhaps  we 


INTERPRETATIONS.  457 

can  get  at  the  conclusion  better  so.  In  the  first, 
place,  who  are  these  '  servants '  spoken  of?  " 

"  Everybody,  I  suppose.  You  have  the  advan 
tage  of  me,  Mr.  Dallas ;  I  have  not  been  studying 
the  passage." 

"  Yet  you  admit  that  we  are  bound  to  obey  it." 

«  Yes—"  she  said  doubtfully.     "  Obey  what  ?  " 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  want  to  find  out.  Now 
the  servants; — they  cannot  mean  everybody,  for  it 
says,  he  'called  Ids  own  servants;' — the  Greek  is 
4  bond-servants.' " 

"  His  servants,  would  be  his  Church  then." 

"  His  own  people.  '  He  delivered  unto  them  his 
goods.'  What  are  the  goods  he  delivered  to  them? 
Some  had  more,  some  had  less ;  all  had  a  share  and 
a  charge.  What  are  these  goods  ?  " 

4<  I  don't  know,"  said  Miss  Frere,  looking  at  him. 

"  What  were  they  to  do  with  these  goods  ?  " 

"Trade  with  them,  it  seems." 

"  In  Luke  the  command  runs  so, — *  Trade  till  I 
come.'  Trading  is  a  process  by  which  the  goods  or 
the  money  concerned  are  multiplied.  What  are 
the  goods  given  to  you  and  me, — to  bring  the  ques 
tion  down  into  the  practical  ? —  It  must  be  some 
thing  with  which  we  may  increase  the  wealth  of 
Him  who  has  entrusted  it  to  us." 

"  Pitt,  that  is  a  very  strange  way  of  speaking," 
said  his  mother. 

"  I  am  talking  to  Miss  Frere,  mamma.  You  have 
only  to  hear  and  judge  between  us.  Miss  Frere, 
the  question  comes  to  you." 


458  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  I  should  say,  it  is  not  possible  to  *  increase  His 
wealth.' " 

"That  is  not  my  putting  of  the  case,  remember. 
And  also,  every  enlargement  of  his  dominion  in 
this  world,  every  addition  made  to  the  number  of 
his  subjects,  may  be  fairly  spoken  of  so.  The  ques 
tion  stands,  What  are  the  goods  ?  That  is,  if  you 
like  to  go  into  it !  I  am  not  catechizing  you,"  said 
Pitt,  half  laughing. 

"  I  do  not  dislike  to  be  catechized,"  said  Miss 
Frere  slowly.  By  you,  was  the  mental  addition. 
"  But  I  never  had  such  a  question  put  to  me  before, 
and  I  am  not  ready  with  an  answer." 

"  I  never  heard  the  question  discussed,  either," 
said  Pitt.  "  But  I  was  reading  this  passage  yester 
day,  and  could  not  help  starting  it.  The  *  goods ' 
must  be,  I  think,  all  those  gifts  or  powers  by  means 
of  which  we  can  work  for  God,  and  so  work  as  to 
enlarge  his  kingdom.  Now  what  are  they?  " 

"  Of  course  we  can  pay  money,"  said  the  young 
lady,  looking  a  good  deal  mystified.  "  We  can  pay 
money  to  support  ministers, — if  that  is  what  you 
mean." 

"  So  much  is  patent  enough.  Is  money  the  only 
thing?" 

Miss  Frere  looked  bewildered;  Mrs.  Dallas  im- 
patient.  She  restrained  herself  however,  and 
waited.  Pitt  smiled. 

**  We  pay  money  to  support  ministers,  and  teach 
ers.  What  do  the  ministers  work  with?  what  do 
they  trade  with  ?  " 


INTERPRETATIONS.  459 

"The  truth,  I  suppose." 

"And  how  do  they  make  the  truth  known?  By 
their  lips,  and  by  their  lives;  the  power  of  the 
word,  with  the  power  of  personal  influence." 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Frere;  "of  course." 

"Then  the  goods,  or  talents,  so  far  as  they  are 
commonly  possessed,  and  so  far  as  we  have  discov 
ered,  are  three ;  property,  speech,  and  personal  ex 
ample.  But  the  two  last  are  entrusted  to  you  and 
me,  are  they  not,  as  well  as  the  former?" 

The  girl  looked  at  him  now  with  big  eyes,  in 
which  no  shadow  of  self-consciousness  was  any 
more  lurking.  Eyes  that  were  bewildered,  aston 
ished,  inquiring,  and  also  disturbed.  "What  do 
you  mean?"  she  said  helplessly. 

"It  comes  to  this,"  said  Pitt.  "If  we  are  ready 
to  obey  the  Bible,  we  shall  use  not  only  our  money, 
but  our  tongues  and  ourselves  to  do  the  work  which 
— you  know — the  Lord  left  to  his  disciples  to  do ; 
make  disciples  of  every  creature.  It  will  be  our 
one  business." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  our  one  business  ?  " 

"That  to  which  we  make  all  others  subservient." 

"  Subservient ! — yes,"  said  Miss  Frere.  "  Subser 
vient  in  a  way;  but  that  does  not  mean  that  we 
should  give  up  everything  else  for  it." 

Pitt  was  silent. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  his  mother  anxiously,  "  it 
seems  to  me  you  are  straining  things  quite  beyond 
what  is  intended.  We  are  not  all  meant  to  be 
clergymen,  are  we  ?  " 


460  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"That  is  not  the  point,  mamma.  The  point  is, 
what  work  is  given  us." 

"That  work  you  speak  of  is  clergymen's  work." 

"Mamma,  what  is  the  command?" 

"But  that  does  not  mean  everybody." 

u  Where  is  the  excepting  clause  ?  " 

"  But  my  dear,  what  would  become  of  Society  ?  " 

"  We  may  leave  that.  We  are  talking  of  obey 
ing  the  Bible.  I  have  given  you  one  instance. 
Now  I  will  give  you  another.  It  is  written  over 
here,"  and  he  turned  a  few  leaves, — "  it  is  another 
word  of  Christ  to  those  whom  he  was  teaching, — 
'If  any  man  serve  me,  let  him  follow  me.'  Now 
here  is  a  plain  command;  but  what  is  it,  to  follow 
Christ  ?  " 

"  To  imitate  him,  I  suppose,"  said  Miss  Frere  to 
whom  he  looked. 

"  In  what  ?  " 

The  young  lady  looked  at  him  in  silence,  and 
then  said,  "  Why  we  all  know  what  it  means  when 
we  say  that  such  a  person  or  such  a  thing  is  Christ- 
like.  Loving,  charitable,  kind, — " 

"  But  to  follow  him, — that  is  something  positive 
and  active.  Literal  following  a  person  is  to  go 
where  he  has  gone,  through  all  the  paths  and  to 
all  the  places.  In  the  spiritual  following,  which  is 
intended  here, — what  is  it  ?  It  is  to  do  as  he  did, 
is  it  not?  To  have  his  aims  and  purposes  and 
views  in  life,  and  to  carry  them  out  logically." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  'logically '  ?  " 

"  According  to  their  due  and  proper  sequences.' 


INTERPRETATIONS.  461 

"  Well,  what  are  you  driving  at  ? "  asked  Miss 
Frere  a  little  worriedly. 

"  I  will  tell  you.  But  I  do  not  mean  to  drive 
you"  he  said,  again  with  a  little  laugh,  as  of  self- 
recollection.  "Tell  me  to  stop,  if  you  are  tired  of 
the  subject." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  least  tired;  how  could  you  think 
it  ?  It  always  delights  me  when  people  talk  logi 
cally.  I  do  not  very  often  hear  it.  But  I  never 
heard  of  logical  religion  before." 

"True  religion  must  be  logical,  must  it  not?" 

"I  thought  religion  was  rather  a  matter  of 
feeling." 

"  I  believe  1  used  to  think  so." 

"  And  pray,  what  is  it  then,  Pitt  ?  "  his  mother 
asked. 

"  Look  here,  mamma.  '  If  any  man  will  serve 
me,  let  himfolloiv  me" 

"Well,  what  do  you  understand  by  that,  Pitt? 
You  are  going  too  fast  for  me.  I  thought  the  love 
of  God  was  the  whole  of  religion." 

"  But  here  is  the  '  following,'  mamma." 

"  What  sort  of  following  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  am  asking.  As  it  cannot  be  in 
bodily,  so  it  must  be  in  mental  footsteps." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  his  mother  with 
an  air  both  vexed  and  anxious;  while  Miss  Frere 
had  now  let  her  embroidery  fall  and  was  giving 
her  best  consideration  to  the  subject  and  the  speaker. 
She  was  a  little  annoyed  too,  but  she  was  more  in 
terested.  This  was  a  different  sort  of  conversation 


462  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

from  any  she  had  been  accustomed  to  hear,  and 
Pitt  was  a  different  sort  of  speaker.  He  was  not 
talking  to  kill  time,  or  to  please  her;  he  was, — 
most  wonderful  and  rare! — in  earnest;  and  that 
not  in  any  matter  that  involved  material  interests. 
She  had  seen  people  in  earnest  before  on  matters 
of  speculation  and  philosophy,  often  on  stocks  and 
schemes  for  making  money,  in  earnest  violently  on 
questions  of  party  politics;  but  in  earnest  for  the 
truth's  sake,  never,  in  all  her  life.  It  was  a  new 
experience,  and  Pitt  was  a  novel  kind  of  person; 
manly,  straightforward,  honest ;  quite  a  person  to  be 
admired,  to  be  respected,  to  be —  Where  were  her 
thoughts  running  ? 

He  had  sat  silent  a  moment,  after  his  mother's 
last  remark;  gravely  thinking.  Betty  brought  him 
back  to  the  point. 

"You  will  tell  us  what  you  think  'following' 
means  ?  "  she  said  gently. 

" I  will  tell  you"  he  said  smiling.  "  I  am  not 
supposed  to  be  speaking  to  mamma.  If  you  will 
look  at  the  way  Christ  went,  you  will  see  what 
following  him  must  be.  In  the  first  place, — Self 
was  nowhere." 

"  Yes, — "  said  Miss  Frere. 

"  Who  is  ready  to  follow  him  in  that  ?  " 

"  But  my  dear  boy !  "  cried  Mrs.  Dallas.  "  We 
are  human  creatures;  we  cannot  help  thinking  of 
ourselves;  we  are  meant  to  think  of  ourselves. 
Everybody  must  think  of  self;  or  the  world  would 
not  hold  together." 


INTERPRETATIONS.  463 

"  I  am  speaking  to  Miss  Frere,"  he  said  pleasantly. 

"  I  confess  I  think  so  too,  Mr.  Dallas.  Of  course 
we  ought  not  to  be  selfish;  that  means,  I  suppose,  to 
think  of  self  unduly;  but  where  would  the  world 
be,  if  everybody,  as  you  say,  put  self  nowhere  ?  " 

u  I  will  go  on  to  another  point.  Christ  went 
about  doing  good.  It  was  the  one  business  of  his 
life.  Whenever  and  wherever  he  went  among 
men,  he  went  to  heal,  to  help,  to  teach,  or  to  warn. 
Even  when  he  was  resting  among  friends  in  the 
little  household  at  Bethany,  he  was  teaching,  and 
one  of  the  household  at  least  sat  at  his  feet  to  listen." 

"Yes,  and  left  her  sister  to  do  all  the  work," 
remarked  Mrs.  Dallas. 

"  The  Lord  said  she  had  done  right,  mamma." 

There  ensued  a  curious  silence.  The  two  ladies 
sat  looking  at  Pitt,  each  apparently  possessed  by  a 
kind  of  troubled  dismay;  neither  ready  with  an 
answer.  The  pause  lasted  till  both  of  them  felt 
what  it  implied,  and  both  began  to  speak  at  once. 

"  But  my  son—" 

"  But  Mr.  Dallas  !— " 

"Miss  Frere,  mamma.  Let  her  speak."  And 
turning  to  the  young  lady  with  a  slight  bow,  he 
intimated  his  willingness  to  hear  her.  Miss  Frere 
was  nevertheless  not  very  ready. 

"Mr.  Dallas,  do  I  understand  you?  Can  it  be 
that  you  mean — I  do  not  know  how  to  put  it, — do 
you  mean  that  you  think  that  everybody,  that  all 
of  us,  and  each  of  us,  ought  to  devote  his  life  to 
helping  and  teaching  ?  " 


464  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  It  can  be  of  no  consequence  what  I  think,"  he 
said.  "  The  question  is  simply,  what  is  '  following 
Christ'?" 

"  Being  his  disciple,  I  should  say." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  he  replied  quickly.  "  I  have  been 
studying  that  very  point ;  and  do  you  know  ?  it  is  said 
here,  and  it  was  said  then, — '  Whosoever  he  be  of 
you  that  forsaketh  not  all  that  he  hath,  he  cannot 
be  my  disciple.'" 

"  But  what  do  you  mean,  Pitt  ?  "  his  mother  asked 
in  indignant  consternation. 

"  What  did  the  Lord  mean,  mother  ?  "  he  returned 
very  gravely. 

"  Are  we  all  heathen,  then  ?  "  she  went  on  with 
heat.  "  For  I  never  saw  anybody  yet  in  my  life 
that  took  such  a  view  of  religion  as  you  are 
taking." 

"Do  we  know  exactly  Mr.  Pitt's  view?"  here  put 
in  the  other  lady.  "  I  confess  I  do  not.  I  wish  he 
would  say." 

"I  have  been  studying  it,"  said  Pitt,  with  an 
earnest  gravity  of  manner  which  gave  his  mother 
yet  more  trouble  than  his  words.  "  I  have  gone 
to  the  Greek  for  it;  and  there  the  word  rendered 
4 forsake'  is  one  that  means  to  'take  leave  of — 
'bid  farewell.'  And  if  we  go  to  history  for  the 
explanation,  we  do  find  that  that  was  the  attitude 
of  mind  which  those  must  needs  assume  in  that 
day  who  were  disposed  to  follow  Christ.  The 
chances  were  that  they  would  be  called  upon  to 
give  up  all — even  life — as  the  cost  of  their  follow- 


INTERPRETATIONS.  465 

ing.  They  would  begin  by  a  secret  taking  leave, 
don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  But  the  times  are  not  such  now,"  Miss  Frere 
ventured. 

Pitt  did  not  answer.  He  sat  looking  at  the  open 
page  of  his  Bible,  evidently  at  work  with  the  prob 
lem  suggested  there.  The  two  women  looked  at 
him;  and  his  mother  got  rid  as  unobtrusively 
as  possible  of  a  vexed  and  hot  tear,  that  would 
come. 

"  Mr.  Dallas,"  Miss  Frere  urged  again,  "these  are 
not  times  of  persecution  any  more.  We  can  be 
Christians — disciples — and  retain  all  our  friends 
and  possessions;  can  we  not?" 

"  Can  we  without  'taking  leave'  of  them  ?  " 

"  Certainly.     I  think  so." 

"  I  do  not  see  it ! "  he  said  after  another  pause. 
"  Do  you  think  anybody  will  be  content  to  put  self 
nowhere,  as  Christ  did,  giving  up  his  whole  life 
and  strength — and  means — to  the  help  and  service 
of  his  fellow  men,  unless  he  has  come  to  that  men 
tal  attitude  we  were  speaking  of?  No,  it  seems 
to  me,  and  the  more  I  think  of  it  the  more  it  seems 
to  me,  that  to  follow  Christ  means  to  give  up  seek 
ing  honour  or  riches  or  pleasure,  except  so  far  as 
they  may  be  sought  and  used  in  his  service.  I 
mean  for  his  service.  All  I  read  in  the  Bible  is 
in  harmony  with  that  view." 

"  But  how  comes  it  then  that  nobody  takes  it," 
said  Miss  Frere  uneasily. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Pitt  slowly,  "  for  the  same  rea- 


466  A  RED   WALLFLOWER. 

son  that  has  kept  me  for  years  from  accepting  it; — 
because  it  was  so  difficult." 

"But  religion  cannot  be  a  difficult  thing,  my 
dear  son,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas. 

He  looked  up  at  her  and  smiled,  an  affectionate, 
very  expressive,  wistful  smile. 

"  Can  it  not,  mother  ?  What  mean  Christ's  words 
here, — 'Whosoever  doth  not  take  up  Us  cross  and 
follow  me,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple.'  The  cross 
meant  shame,  torture,  and  death,  in  those  days;  and 
I  think,  in  a  modified  way,  it  means  the  same  thing 
now.  It  means  something.". 

"  But  Mr.  Pitt,  you  do  not  answer  my  argument," 
Miss  Frere  repeated.  "  If  this  view  is  correct,  how 
comes  it  that  nobody  takes  it  but  you  ?  " 

"  Your  argument  is  where  the  dew  is  after  a  hot 
sun, — nowhere.  Instead  of  nobody  taking  this  view, 
it  has  been  held  by  hundreds  of  thousands  who  like 
the  first  disciples  have  forsaken  all  and  followed 
him.  Kather  than  be  false  to  it  they  have  endured 
the  loss  of  all  things,  they  have  given  up  father 
and  mother,  they  have  borne  torture  and  faced 
the  lions.  In  later  days,  they  have  been  chased 
and  worried  from  hiding-place  to  hiding-place,  they 
have  been  cut  down  by  the  sword,  buried  alive, 
thrown  from  the  tops  of  rocks,  and  burned  at  the 
stake.  And  in  peacefuller  times  they  have  left 
their  homes  and  countries  and  gone  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth  to  tell  the  gospel.  They  have  done 
what  was  given  them  to  do,  without  regarding  the 
cost  of  it." 


INTERPRETATIONS.  467 

"Then  you  think  all  the  people  who  fill  our 
churches  are  no  Christians  !  " 

"  I  say  nothing  about  the  people  who  fill  our 
churches." 

Pitt  rose  here. 

"  But  Mr.  Dallas,  how  can  all  the  world  be  so 
mistaken?  Our  clergymen,  our  bishops,  do  not 
preach  such  doctrine  as  you  do,  if  I  understand  you." 

"  That  has  been  a  great  puzzle  to  me,"  he  said. 

44  Is  it  not  enough  to  make  you  doubt  ?  " 

"  Can  I  question  the  words  I  have  read  to  you?" 

"  No,  but  perhaps  your  interpretation  of  them." 

"  When  you  have  got  down  to  the  simplest  pos 
sible  English,  there  is  no  room  that  I  see  for  inter 
pretation.  'Follow  me'  can  mean  nothing  but 
*  Follow  me' ;  and  '  forsaking  all '  is  not  a  doubtful 
expression." 

The  discussion  would  probably  have  gone  on 
still  further,  but  the  elder  Dallas's  step  was  heard 
in  the  house,  and  Pitt  went  away  with  his  book. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

A    STAND. 

MRS.  DALLAS  was  very  deeply  disturbed.  She 
saw  in  these  strange  views  of  Pitt's  all  sorts 
of  possible  dangers  to  what  she  had  hoped  would  be 
his  future  career  in  life.  Even  granting  that  they 
were  a  youthful  folly  and  would  pass  away,  how 
soon  would  they  pass  away  ?  and  in  the  meantime 
what  chances  Pitt  might  lose,  what  time  might  be 
wasted,  what  fatal  damage  his  prospects  might 
suffer.  And  Pitt  held  a  thing  so  fast  when  he  had 
once  taken  it  up.  Almost  her  only  hope  lay  in 
Betty's  influence. 

Betty  herself  was  disturbed,  much  more  than  she 
cared  to  have  known.  If  t his  fascination  got  hold 
of  Pitt,  she  knew  very  well  he  would,  for  the  time 
at  least,  be  open  to  no  other.  Her  ordinary  power 
would  be  gone ;  he  would  see  in  her  nothing  but  a 
talking  machine  with  whom  he  could  discuss  things. 
It  was  not  speculation  merely  that  busied  his  thoughts 
now,  she  could  see;  not  mere  philosophy,  or  study 
of  human  nature ;  Pitt  was  carrying  all  these  Bible 
words  in  upon  himself,  comparing  them  with  him- 
(468) 


A  STAND.  469 

self,  and  working  away  at  the  discrepancy.  Some 
thing  that  he  called  conscience  was  engaged,  and 
restless.  Betty  saw  that  there  was  but  one  thing 
left  for  her  to  do.  Diversion  was  riot  possible ;  she 
could  not  hope  to  turn  Pitt  aside  from  his  quest 
after  truth;  she  must  seem  to  take  part  in  it,  and 
so  gain  her  advantage  from  what  threatened  to  be 
her  discomfiture. 

The  result  of  all  which  was,  that  after  this  there 
came  to  be  a  great  deal  of  talk  between  the  two 
upon  Bible  subjects,  intermingled  with  not  a  little 
reading  aloud  from  the  Bible  itself.  This  was  at 
Betty's  instance,  rather  than  Pitt's.  When  she 
could  she  got  him  out  for  a  walk  or  a  drive ;  in  the 
house,  (and  truly  often  out  of  the  house  too)  she 
threw  herself  with  great  apparent  interest  into  the 
study  of  the  questions  that  had  been  started,  along 
with  others  collateral,  and  desired  to  learn  and  de 
sired  to  discuss  all  that  could  be  known  about  them. 
So  there  were,  as  I  said,  continual  Bible  readings, 
mingled  occasionally  with  references  to  some  old 
commentary;  and  Betty  and  Pitt  sat  very  near  to 
gether,  looking  over  the  same  page;  and  remained 
long  in  talk,  looking  eagerly  into  one  another's 
eyes.  Mrs.  Dallas  was  not  satisfied. 

She  came  upon  Betty  one  day  in  the  verandah, 
just  after  Pitt  had  left  her.  The  young  lady  was 
sitting  with  her  hand  between  the  leaves  of  a  Bible, 
and  a  disturbed,  far-away  look  in  her  eyes,  which 
might  have  been  the  questioning  of  a  troubled  con 
science,  or — of  a  very  different  feeling.  She  roused 


470  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

up  as  Mrs.  Dallas  came  to  her  and  put  on  a  some 
what  wan  smile. 

"Where  is  Pitt?" 

"  Going  to  ride  somewhere,  I  believe." 

"  What  have  you  got  there  ?  the  Bible  again  ? 
I  don't  believe  in  all  this  Bible  reading !  Can't 
you  get  him  off  it  ?  " 

"It  is  the  only  thing  to  do  now." 

"But  cannot  you  get  him  off  it?  " 

"Not  immediately.  Mr.  Dallas  takes  a  fancy 
hard." 

"So  unlike  him!"  the  mother  went  on.  "So 
unlike  all  he  used  to  be.  He  always  took  things 
'hard;'  as  you  say;  but  then  it  used  to  be  science 
and  study  of  history,  and  collecting  of  natural  cu 
riosities,  and  drawing.  Have  you  seen  any  of  Pitt's 
drawings  ?  He  has  a  genius  for  that.  Indeed  I 
think  he  has  a  genius  for  everything,"  Mrs.  Dallas 
said  with  a  sigh ;  "  and  he  used  to  be  keen  for  dis 
tinguishing  himself;  and  he  did  distinguish  him 
self  everywhere,  always;  here  at  school  and  at 
college,  and  then  at  Oxford.  My  dear,  he  dis 
tinguished  himself  at  Oxford.  He  was  always  a 
good  boy,  but  not  in  the  least  foolish,  or  supersti 
tious,  or  the  least  inclined  to  be  fanatical.  And 
now,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out,  he  is  for  giving  up 
everything !  " 

"  He  does  nothing  by  halves." 

"  No ;  but  it  is  very  hard,  now  when  he  is  just 
reading  law  and  getting  ready  to  take  his  place  in 
the  world — and  he  would  take  no  mean  place  in 


A  STAND.  471 

the  world,  Betty ; — it  is  hard !  Why  he  talks  as  if 
he  would  throw  everything  up.  I  never  would 
have  thought  it  of  Pitt, — of  all  people.  It  is  due, 
I  am  convinced,  to  the  influence  of  those  dissenting 
friends  of  his !  " 

"  Who  are  they  ?  "  Miss  Betty  asked  curiously. 

"You  have  heard  the  name,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas, 
lowering  her  voice  though  Pitt  was  not  within  hear 
ing.  "They  used  to  live  here.  It  was  a  Col. 
Gainsborough, — English,  but  of  a  dissenting  per 
suasion.  That  kind  of  thing  seems  to  be  infec 
tious." 

"  He  must  have  been  a  remarkable  man,  if  his  in 
fluence  could  begin  so  early  and  last  so  long." 

"  Well,  it  was  not  just  that  only.  There  was  a 
daughter — " 

"And  a  love  affair?"  asked  Miss  Betty,  with  a 
slight  laugh  which  covered  a  sudden  down-sinking 
of  her  heart. 

"  O  dear  no !  she  was  a  child ;  there  was  no 
thought  of  such  a  thing.  But  Pitt  was  fond  of  her, 
and  used  to  go  roaming  about  the  fields  with  her 
after  flowers.  My  son  is  a  botanist — I  don't  know 
if  you  have  found  it  out." 

"And  those  were  the  people  he  went  to  New 
York  to  seek?" 

"  Yes,  and  could  not  find — most  happily." 

Miss  Betty  mused.  Certainly  Pitt  was  "  persist 
ent."  And  now  he  had  got  this  religious  idea  in 
his  head,  would  there  be  any  managing  it,  or  him? 
It  did  not  frighten  Miss  Betty,  so  far  as  the  relig- 


472  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

ious  idea  itself  was  concerned ;  she  reflected  sagely 
that  a  man  might  be  worse  things  than  philan 
thropic,  or  even  than  pious.  She  had  seen  wives 
made  unhappy  by  neglect  and  others  made  miser 
able  by  the  dissipated  habits  or  the  ungoverned 
tempers  of  their  husbands;  a  man  need  not  be  un 
endurable  because  he  was  true  and  thoughtful  and 
conscientious,  or  even  devout.  She  could  bear  that, 
quite  easily;  the  only  thing  was,  that  in  thoughts 
which  possessed  Pitt  lately  he  had  passed  out  of  her 
influence ;  beyond  her  reach.  All  she  could  do,  was 
to  follow  him  into  this  new  and  very  unwonted 
sphere  and  seem  to  be  as  earnest  as  he  was.  He 
met  her,  he  reasoned  with  her,  he  read  to  her,  but 
Betty  did  not  feel  sure  that  she  got  any  nearer  to 
him  nevertheless.  She  was  shrewd  enough  to  di 
vine  the  reason. 

"  Mr.  Pitt,"  she  said  frankly  to  him  one  day,  when 
the  talk  had  been  eager  in  the  same  line  it  had 
taken  that  first  day  on  the  verandah,  and  both 
parties  had  held  the  same  respective  positions  with 
regard  to  each  other; — "  Mr.  Pitt,  are  you  fighting 
me,  or  yourself?" 

He  paused  and  looked  at  her,  and  half  laughed. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  he.  And  then  he  went  off, 
and  for  the  present  that  was  all  Miss  Betty  gained 
by  her  motion. 

Nobody  saw  much  of  Pitt  during  the  rest  of  the 
day.  The  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  he  came 
out  to  the  two  ladies  where  as  usual  they  were 
sitting  at  work.  It  was  another  September  day  of 


A  STAND.  473 

sultry  heat;  yet  the  verandah  was  also  in  the  morn 
ing  a  pleasant  place,  sweet  with  the  honeysuckle 
fragrance  still  lingering,  and  traversed  by  a  faint 
intermittent  breeze.  Both  ladies  raised  their  heads 
to  look  at  the  young  man  as  he  came  towards  them, 
and  then,  struck  by  something  in  his  face,  could 
not  take  their  eyes  away.  He  came  straight  to 
his  mother  and  stood  there  in  front  of  her,  looking 
down  and  meeting  her  look;  Miss  Frere  could  not 
see  how,  but  evidently  it  troubled  Mrs.  Dallas. 

"What  is  it  now,  Pitt ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you,  mother.  I  have  come 
to  tell  you  that  I  have  given  up  fighting." 

"  Fighting !  ?— " 

"Yes.  The  battle  is  won,  and  I  have  lost,  and 
gained.  I  have  given  up  fighting,  mother,  and  I 
am  Christ's  free  man." 

"  What  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dallas  bewilderedly. 

"  It  is  true,  mother.  I  am  Christ's  servant.  The 
things  are  the  same.  How  should  I  not  be  the  ser 
vant,  the  bond  servant,  of  him  who  has  made  a  free 
man  of  me  ?  " 

His  tone  was  not  excited ;  it  was  quiet  and  sweet; 
but  Mrs.  Dallas  was  excited. 

"  A  free  man  ?  My  boy,  what  are  you  saying  ? 
Were  you  not  always  free  ?  " 

"  No,  mother.  I  was  in  such  bonds,  that  I  have 
been  struggling  for  years  to  do  what  was  right 
— what  I  knew  was  right, — and  was  unable." 

"  To  do  what  was  right?  My  boy,  how  you  talk! 
You  always  did  what  was  right." 


474  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  I  was  never  Christ's  servant,  mamma." 

"  What  delusion  is  this ! "  cried  Mrs.  Dallas. 
"  My  son,  what  do  you  mean  ?  You  were  baptized, 
you  were  confirmed,  you  were  everything  that  you 
ought  to  be.  You  cannot  be  better  than  you  have 
always  been ! " 

He  smiled,  stooped  down  and  kissed  her  troubled 
face. 

"1  was  never  Christ's  servant  before,"  he  re 
peated.  "But  I  am  his  servant  now  at  last,  all 
there  is  of  me.  I  wanted  you  to  know  at  once, — 
and  Miss  Frere,  I  wanted  her  to  know  it.  She  asked 
me  yesterday  whom  I  was  fighting  ?  and  I  saw  di 
rectly  that  I  was  fighting  a  won  battle;  that  my 
reason  and  conscience  were  entirely  vanquished, 
and  that  the  only  thing  that  held  out  was  my  will. 
I  have  given  that  up,  and  now  I  am  the  Lord's 
servant." 

"  You  were  his  servant  before." 

"  Never,  in  any  true  sense." 

"My  dear,  what  difference?"  asked  Mrs.  Dallas 
helplessly. 

"  It  was  nominal  merely." 

"  And  now  ?— " 

"Now  it  is  not  nominal;  it  is  real.  I  have  come 
to  know  and  love  my  Master.  I  am  his  for  life  and 
death ;  and  now  his  commands  seem  the  pleasantest 
things  in  the  world  to  me." 

"  But  you  obeyed  them  always  ?  " 

"No,  mamma,  I  did  not.  I  obeyed  nothing,  in 
the  last  resort,  but  my  own  supreme  will." 


A  STAND.  475 

"But  Pitt — you  say  you  have  come  to  know 
—  What  time  has  there  been  for  any  such 
change  ? " 

"Not  much  time,"  he  replied;  "and  I  cannot  tell 
how  it  is;  but  it  seemed  as  if,  so  soon  as  I  had  given 
up  the  struggle  and  yielded,  scales  fell  from  my 
eyes.  I  cannot  tell  how  it  was;  but  all  at  once 
I  seemed  to  see  the  beauty  of  Christ,  which  I  never 
saw  before;  and  mamma, — the  sight  has  filled  me 
with  joy.  Nothing  now  to  my  mind  is  more  rea 
sonable  than  his  demands;  or  more  delightful  than 
yielding  obedience  to  them." 

"  Demands  ?  what  demands  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Dallas. 

Her  son  repeated  the  words  with  which  the  twelfth 
chapter  of  Eomans  begins. — 

"  *  I  beseech  you  therefore,  brethren,  by  the  mer 
cies  of  God,  that  ye  present  your  bodies  a  living 
sacrifice,  holy,  acceptable  unto  God,  which  is  your 
reasonable  service;  and  be  not  conformed  to  this 
world.' " 

"  But  my  dear,  that  means, — " 

"It  means  all." 

"How,  all?" 

"  There  is  nothing  more  left  to  give,  when  this 
sacrifice  is  presented.  It  covers  the  whole  ground. 
The  sacrifice  is  a  living  sacrifice,  but  it  gives  all  to 
God  as  entirely  as  the  offering  that  imaged  it  went 
up  in  smoke  and  flame." 

"  What  sacrifice  imaged  it  ?  " 

"  The  burnt-sacrifice  of  old.  That  always  meant 
consecration." 


476  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?    You  are  not  a  clergyman." 

Pitt  smiled  again,  less  brightly.  "True,  mother, 
but  I  have  been  studying  all  this  for  years,  in  the 
Bible  and  in  the  words  of  others  who  ivere  clergy 
men;  and  now  it  is  all  plain  before  me.  It  became 
so,  as  soon  as  I  was  willing  to  obey  it." 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Do  ?  I  cannot  say  yet.  I  am  a  soldier  but  just 
enlisted,  and  do  not  know  where  my  orders  will 
place  me  or  what  work  they  will  give  me.  Only 
I  have  enlisted;  and  that  is  what  I  wanted  you  to 
know  at  once.  Mother,  it  is  a  great  honour  to  be 
a  soldier  of  Christ." 

"  I  should  think,  if  I  did  not  see  you  and  hear 
your  voice,  I  should  certainly  think  I  heard  a 
Methodist  talking.  I  suppose  that  is  the  way  they 
do." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  one  talk,  mother  ?  " 

"No,  and  do  not  want  to  hear  one,  even  if  it 
were  my  own  son !  "  she  answered  angrily. 

"  But  in  all  that  I  have  been  saying,  if  they  say 
it  too,  the  Methodists  are  right,  mother.  A  redeemed 
sinner  is  one  bought  with  a  price,  and  thenceforth 
neither  his  spirit  nor  his  body  can  be  his  own. 
And  his  happiness  is,  not  to  be  his  own." 

Mrs.  Dallas  was  violently  moved,  yet  she  had 
much  self-command  and  habitual  dignity  of  man 
ner,  and  would  not  break  down  now.  More  pitiful 
than  tears  was  the  haughty  gesture  of  her  head  as 
she  turned  it  aside  to  hide  the  quivering  lips. 
And  more  tender  than  words  was  the  air  with 


A  STAND.  477 

which   her   son   presently  stooped   and   took  her 
hand. 

"  Mother ! — "  he  said  gently  and  tenderly. 

"  Pitt,  I  never  would  have  believed  this  of  you ! " 
she  said  with  bitter  emphasis. 

"You  never  could  have  believed  anything  so 
good  of  me." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  she  repeated  ve 
hemently.  "  What  does  all  this  amount  to  ?  or  is 
it  anything  but  dissenting  rant  ?  " 

"Anything  but  that,"  he  answered  gravely. 
"  Mother,  do  you  remember  the  words — '  No  man 
when  he  hath  lighted  a  lamp  covereth  it  with  a 
vessel,  or  putteth  it  under  a  bed ;  but  putteth  it  on 
a  stand,  that  they  which  enter  in  may  see  the 
light.'  Every  Christian  is  such  a  lighted  lamp, 
intended  for  some  special  place  and  use.  My  spe 
cial  use  and  place  I  do  not  yet  know;  but  this  I 
know  plainly,  that  my  work  in  the  world,  one  way 
or  another,  must  be  the  Lord's  work.  For  that  I 
live  henceforth." 

"  You  will  go  into  the  Church  ?  "  cried  his  mother. 

"Not  necessarily." 

"You  will  give  up  reading  law?" 

"No,  I  think  not.  At  present  it  seems  to  me  I 
had  better  finish  what  I  have  begun.  But  if  I  do, 
mother,  my  law  will  be  only  one  of  the  means  I 
have  to  work  with  for  that  one  end." 

"  And  I  suppose  your  money  would  be  another  ?  " 

"Undoubtedly." 

"  What  has  money  to  do  with  teaching  people  ?  " 


478  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Miss  Frere  asked.  It  was  the  first  word  she  had 
spoken ;  she  spoke  it  seriously,  not  mockingly.  The 
question  brought  his  eyes  round  to  her. 

"  Do  you  ask  that  ?  "  said  he.  "  Every  unreason 
ing,  ignorant  creature  of  humanity  understands  it. 
The  love  that  would  win  them  for  heaven,  would 
also  help  them  on  earth ;  and  if  they  do  not  see  the 
one  thing  they  do  not  believe  in  the  other." 

"  Then —     But —     What  do  you  propose  ? '-' 

"  It  is  simple  enough,"  he  said. 

"  It  is  too  simple  for  Betty  and  me,"  said  his 
mother.  "  I  would  be  obliged  to  you,  Pitt,  to  an 
swer  her." 

The  young  man's  countenance  changed ;  a  shadow 
fell  over  it  which  raised  Miss  Frere's  sympathy.  He 
went  into  the  house  however  for  a  Bible,  and  com 
ing  back  with  it  sat  down  and  read  quietly  and 
steadfastly  the  beautiful  words  in  Isaiah — 

"  '  To  loose  the  bands  of  wickedness,  to  undo  the 
heavy  burdens,  and  to  let  the  oppressed  go  free, 
and  that  ye  break  every  yoke.  ...  To  deal  thy 
bread  to  the  hungry,  and  that  thou  bring  the  poor 
that  are  cast  out  to  thy  house ;  when  thou  seest  the 
naked,  that  thou  cover  him ;  and  that  thou  hide  not 
thyself  from  thine  own  flesh. — '  " 

"  It  would  take  a  good  deal  of  money,  certainly," 
said  Miss  Frere,  "  to  do  all  that ;  indeed  I  hardly 
think  all  the  fortunes  in  the  world  would  be  suffi 
cient." 

Pitt  made  no  answer.  He  sat  looking  down  at 
the  page  from  which  he  had  been  reading. 


A  STAND.  479 

"Nobody  is  required  to  do  more  than  his  part 
of  the  work,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas.  "  If  Pitt  will  be 
contented  with  that — " 

"  What  is  my  part  of  it,  mother  ? 

"  Why,  your  share ;  what  you  can  do  properly 
and  comfortably,  without  any  fanaticism  of  sacrifice." 

"  Must  I  not  do  all  I  can  ?  " 

"  No !  not  all  you  can.  You  could  spend  your 
whole  fortune  in  it." 

"  I  was  thinking,  easily,"  observed  Miss  Frere. 

"  What  is  the  Bible  rule  ?  '  When  thou  seest  the 
naked,  that  thou  cover  him  ' — *  that  ye  break  every 
yoke.'  And, — 'he  that  hath  two  coats,  let  him 
impart  to  him  that  hath  none;  and  he  that  hath 
meat,  let  him  do  likewise.'  " 

"  You  can  find  Scripture  to  quote  for  everything,'' 
said  Mrs.  Dallas,  rising  in  anger;  "that  is  the  way 
Methodists  and  fanatics  always  do,  as  I  have  heard. 
But  I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  Pitt,  which  you  may 
not  have  taken  into  account ;  if  you  persist  in  this 
foolishness,  your  father,  I  know,  will  take  care  that 
the  fortune  you  have  to  throw  away  shall  not  be 
large ! " 

With  these  words  she  swept  into  the  house. 
The  two  left  behind  were  for  some  moments  very 
still.  Pitt  had  drooped  his  head  a  little,  and 
rested  his  brow  in  his  hand ;  Miss  Betty  watched 
him.  Her  dismay  and  dislike  of  Pitt's  disclosures 
was  scarce  less  than  his  mother's,  but  different. 
Disappointed  pride  was  not  here  in  question.  That 
he  should  give  up  a  splendid  and  opulent  career 


480  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

did  not  much  trouble  her.  In  the  first  place,  he 
might  modify  his  present  views;  in  the  second 
place,  if  he  did  not,  if  he  lived  up  to  his  principles, 
there  was  something  in  her  which  half  recognized 
the  beauty  and  dignity  and  truth  of  such  a  life. 
But  in  either  case,  alas,  alas!  how  far  was  he 
drifted  away  out  of  her  sphere  and  beyond  her 
reach?  For  the  present,  at  least,  his  mind  was 
utterly  taken  up  by  this  one  great  subject ;  there 
was  no  room  in  it  left  for  light  things ;  love  skir 
mishes  could  not  be  carried  on  over  the  ground  he 
now  occupied;  he  was  wholly  absorbed  in  his  new 
decisions  and  experiences — and  likely  to  be  engaged 
with  the  consequences  of  them.  Betty  was  sorry 
for  him  just  now,  for  she  saw  that  he  felt  pain; 
and  at  the  same  time  she  admired  him  more  than 
ever.  His  face  was  more  sweet,  she  thought,  and 
yet  more  strong,  than  she  had  ever  seen  it;  his 
manner  to  his  mother  was  perfect.  So  had  not 
been  her  manner  towards  him.  He  had  been  gen 
tle,  steadfast,  and  true,  manly  and  tender.  Happy 
will  be  the  woman  that  will  share  his  life,  whatever 
it  be!  thought  Betty  with  some  constriction  of 
heart;  but  to  bring  herself  into  that  favoured  place 
she  saw  little  chance  now.  She  longed  to  say  a 
word  of  some  sort  that  might  sound  like  sympathy 
or  intelligence;  but  she  could  not  find  it,  and  wisely 
held  her  peace. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

LIFE    PLANS. 

HAPPILY  or  unhappily, — it  was  as  people  looked 
at  it, — Pitt's  free  days  in  America  were  draw 
ing  to  a  close.  There  were  few  still  remaining  to 
him  before  he  must  leave  Seaforth  and  home  and 
go  back  to  his  reading  law  in  the  Temple.  In 
those  days  there  was  a  little  more  discussion  of 
his  new  views  and  their  consequences  between  him 
and  his  mother;  but  not  much;  and  none  at  all  be 
tween  him  and  his  father. 

"  Pitt  is  not  a  fool,"  he  had  said,  when  Mrs.  Dal 
las  in  her  distress  confided  to  him  Pitt's  declara 
tion  ; — "  I  can  trust  him  not  to  make  an  ass  of 
himself;  and  so  can  you,  wife." 

"  But  he  is  very  strong  when  he  takes  a  thing 
in  his  head;  always  was." 

"  This  thing  will  get  out  of  his  head  again ;  you 
will  see." 

"  I  do  not  believe  it.     It  isn't  his  way." 

"One  thing  is  certain, — I  shall  never  give  my 
money  to  a  fool  to  make  ducks  and  drakes  with ; 

and  you  may  hint  as  much  to  him." 

(481) 


482  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  It  would  be  very  unwise  policy,"  said  Mrs.  Dal 
las  thoughtfully. 

"Then  let  it  alone.  I  have  no  idea  there  is  any 
need.  You  may  depend  upon  it,  London  and  law 
will  scare  all  this  nonsense  away;  fast  enough." 

Mrs.  Dallas  felt  no  comforting  assurance  of  the 
kind.  She  watched  her  son,  during  the  remaining 
days  of  his  presence  with  them;  watched  him  in 
cessantly;  so  did  Betty  Frere,  and  so  in  truth  se 
cretly  did  his  father.  Pitt  was  rather  more  quiet 
than  usual;  there  was  not  much  other  change  to 
be  observed  in  him,  or  so  Mrs.  Dallas  flattered 
herself. 

"  I  see  a  difference,"  said  Miss  Frere,  to  whom 
she  communicated  this  opinion. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  mother  hastily.  For 
she  had  seen  it  too. 

"  It  is  not  just  easy  to  put  it  in  words;  but  I  see 
it.  Mrs.  Dallas,  there  is  a  wonderful  rest  come  into 
his  face." 

"  Rest  ?  "  said  the  other.  "  Pitt  was  never  rest 
less,  in  a  bad  sense ;  there  was  no  keep  still  to  him ; 
but  that  is  not  what  you  mean." 

"That  is  not  what  I  mean.  I  never  in  my  life 
saw  anybody  look  so  happy." 

"  Can't  you  do  something  with  him  ?  " 

"  He  gives  me  no  chance." 

It  may  seem  strange  that  a  good  mother  should 
wish  to  interfere  with  the  happiness  of  a  good  son ; 
but  neither  she  nor  Miss  Frere  adverted  to  that 
anomaly. 


LIFE  PLANS.  483 

"I  should  not  wonder,  one  bit,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas 
bitterly,  "if  he  were  to  disinherit  himself." 

That  would  be  bad,  Betty  agreed;  deplorable; 
however,  the  thought  of  her  own  loss  busied  her 
most  just  now;  not  of  what  Pitt  might  lose.  Two 
days  before  his  departure  all  these  various  feelings 
of  the  various  persons  in  the  little  family  received 
a  somewhat  violent  jar. 

It  was  evening.  Miss  Frere  and  Pitt  had  had  a 
ride  that  afternoon,  a  long  and  very  spirited  one. 
It  might  be  the  last  they  would  take  together;  and 
she  had  enjoyed  it  with  the  keenness  of  that  con 
sciousness  ;  as  a  grain  of  salt  intensifies  sweetness, 
or  as  discords  throw  out  the  value  of  harmony. 
Pitt  had  been  bright  and  lively  as  much  as  ever; 
the  ride  had  been  gay;  and  the  one  regret  on 
Betty's  mind  as  they  dismounted  was  that  she  had 
not  more  time  before  her  to  try  what  she  could  do. 
Pitt,  as  yet  at  least,  had  not  grown  a  bit  precise,  or 
sanctimonious;  he  had  not  talked  nonsense  indeed, 
but  then  he  never  had  paid  her  the  very  poor  compli 
ment  of  doing  that.  All  the  more,  she  as  well  as  the 
others  was  startled  by  what  came  out  in  the  evening. 

All  supper  time  Pitt  was  particularly  talkative 
and  bright.  Mrs.  Dallas's  face  took  a  gleam  from 
the  brightness,  and  even  Mr.  Dallas  roused  up  to 
bear  his  part  in  the  conversation.  When  supper 
was  done  they  still  sat  round  the  table,  lingering 
in  talk.  Then,  after  a  slight  pause  which  had  set 
in,  Pitt  leaned  forward  a  little  and  spoke,  looking 
alternately  at  one  and  the  other  of  his  parents. 


484  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Mother, — father, — I  wish  you  would  do  one 
thing  before  I  go  away." 

At  the  change  in  his  tone  all  three  present  had 
pricked  up  their  ears,  and  every  eye  was  now  upon 
him. 

"What  is  that,  Pitt?"  his  mother  said  anx 
iously. 

"  Have  family  prayer." 

If  a  bomb  shell  had  suddenly  alighted  on  the 
table  and  there  exploded,  there  would  have  been  no 
doubt  more  feeling  of  fright,  but  not  more  of  shocked 
surprise.  Dumb  silence  followed.  Angry  eyes  were 
directed  towards  the  speaker  from  the  top  and  from 
the  bottom  of  the  table.  Miss  Frere  cast  down  hers 
with  the  inward  thought,  "  0  you  foolish,  foolish 
fellow !  what  did  you  do  that  for,  and  spoil  every 
thing  !  "—Pitt  waited  a  little. 

"It  is  duty,"  he  said.  "You  yourselves  will 
grant  me  that." 

"  And  you  fancy  it  is  your  duty  to  remind  us  of 
ours!"  said  his  father,  with  contained  scorn. 

The  mother's  agitation  was  violent,  so  violent 
that  she  had  difficulty  to  command  herself.  What 
it  was  that  moved  her  so  painfully  she  could  not 
have  told;  her  thoughts  were  in  too  much  of  a 
whirl.  Between  anger,  and  fear,  and  something 
else,  she  was  in  the  greatest  confusion,  and  not 
able  to  utter  a  syllable.  Betty  sat  internally  railing 
at  Pitt's  folly. 

"  The  only  question  is,  Is  it  duty  ? — in  either 
case,"  the  son  said  steadfastly. 


LIFE  PLANS.  485 

u  Exactly  !  "  said  his  father.  "  Well,  you  have 
done  yours,  and  I  will  do  mine." 

His  wife  wondered  at  his  calmness,  and  guessed 
that  it  was  studied.  Neither  of  them  was  prepared 
for  Pitt's  next  word. 

" Will  you,"  he  said  simply.  "And  will  you  let 
me  make  a  beginning  now  ?  Because  I  am  going 
away  ?  " 

"  Do  what  you  like,"  said  the  older  man,  with 
indescribable  expression.  Betty  interpreted  it  to 
be  restrained  rage.  His  wife  thought  it  was  a 
moved  conscience,  or  mere  policy  and  curiosity ;  she 
could  not  tell  which.  The  words  were  enough, 
however,  whatever  had  moved  them.  Pitt  took  a 
Bible  and  read,  still  sitting  at  the  table,  the  parable 
of  the  talents;  and  then  he  kneeled  down.  The 
elder  Dallas  never  stirred.  Betty  knelt  at  once. 
Mrs.  Dallas  sat  still  at  first,  but  then  slipped  from 
her  chair  to  the  floor  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands,  where  tears  that  were  exceedingly  bitter 
flowed  beyond  all  her  power  to  hinder  them.  For 
Pitt  was  praying,  and  to  his  mother's  somewhat 
shocked  astonishment,  not  in  any  words  from  a 
book,  but  in  words, — where  did  he  get  them  ? — 
that  broke  her  heart.  They  were  solemn  and  sweet, 
tender  and  simple;  there  was  neither  boldness  nor 
shyness  in  them,  although  there  was  a  frankness 
at  which  Mrs.  Dallas  wondered,  along  with  the 
tenderness  that  quite  subdued  her. 

The  third  one  kneeling  there  was  moved  differ 
ently.  The  fountain  of  her  tears  was  not  touched 


486  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

at  all,  neither  had  she  any  share  in  the  passion  of 
displeasure  which  filled  the  father  and  mother.  Yet 
she  was  in  a  disturbance  almost  as  complete  as 
theirs.  It  was  a  bitter  and  secret  trouble,  which 
as  a  woman  she  had  to  keep  to  herself,  over  which 
her  head  bowed  as  she  knelt  there.  Just  for  that 
minute  she  might  bow  her  head  and  confess  to  her 
trouble,  while  no  one  could  see;  and  her  head,  poor 
girl,  went  low.  She  did  not  in  the  least  approve 
of  Pitt's  proceedings;  she  did  not  sympathize  with 
his  motives;  at  the  same  time  they  did  not  make 
her  like  him  the  less.  On  the  contrary;  and  Betty 
felt  it  was  on  the  contrary.  She  could  not  help  ad 
miring  his  bravery,  and  she  was  almost  ready  to 
worship  his  strength.  Somebody  brave  enough  to 
avow  truth  that  is  unwelcome,  and  strong  enough 
to  do  what  goes  against  the  grain  with  himself; 
such  a  person  is  not  to  be  met  with  every  day,  and 
usually  excites  the  profound  respect  of  his  fellows 
even  when  they  do  not  like  him.  But  Betty  liked 
this  one,  and  liked  him  the  more  for  doing  the 
things  she  disliked,  and  it  drove  her  to  the  bounds 
of  desperation  to  feel  that  in  the  engrossment  of 
his  new  principles  he  was  carried  away  from  her 
and  out  of  her  power.  Added  to  all  this  was  the 
extreme  strangeness  of  the  present  experience. 
Absolutely  kneeling  round  the  dinner  table,  kneel 
ing  to  pray  !  Betty  had  never  known  such  a  thing 
nor  conceived  the  possibility  of  such  a  thing.  In 
an  unconsecrated  place,  led  by  uriconsecrated  lips, 
in  words  nowhere  set  down ;  what  could  equal  the 


LIFE  PLANS.  487 

irregularity  and  the  impropriety  ?  The  two  women, 
in  their  weakness,  kneeling,  and  the  master  of  the 
house  shewing  by  his  unmoved  posture  that  he 
disallowed  the  whole  thing!  Incongruous!  unfor 
tunate  !  I  am  bound  to  say  that  Betty  understood 
little  of  the  words  she  so  disapproved;  the  sea 
under  a  stormy  wind  is  not  more  uneasy  than  was 
her  spirit;  and  towards  the  end  her  one  special 
thought  and  effort  was  bent  upon  quieting  the 
commotion  and  at  least  appearing  unmoved.  She 
was  pretty  safe;  for  the  other  members  of  the  family 
had  each  enough  to  busy  him  without  taking  much 
note  of  her. 

Pitt  had  but  a  day  or  two  more  to  stay;  and 
Miss  Frere  felt  an  irresistible  impulse  to  force  him 
into  at  least  one  talk  more.  She  hardly  knew  what 
she  expected,  or  what  she  wished  from  it;  only,  to 
let  him  go  so,  without  one  more  word,  was  unbear 
able.  She  wanted  to  get  nearer  to  him,  if  she 
could;  if  she  might  not  bring  him  nearer  to  her; 
and  at  any  rate  she  wanted  the  bitter-sweet  pleas 
ure  of  arguing  with  him.  Nothing  might  come 
of  it,  but  she  must  have  the  talk  if  she  could.  So 
she  took  the  first  chance  that  offered. 

The  family  atmosphere  was  a  little  oppressive  the 
next  morning;  and  after  breakfast  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dallas  both  disappeared.  Betty  seized  her  oppor 
tunity  and  reminded  Pitt  that  he  had  never  shewed 
her  his  particular  room,  his  old  workshop  and  play 
place.  It  was  not  much  to  see,  he  said ;  however 
he  took  her  through  the  house  and  up  the  open 


488  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

flight  of  steps,  where  long  ago  Esther  had  been 
used  to  go  for  her  lessons.  The  room  looked  much 
as  it  had  done  at  that  time;  for  during  Pitt's  stay 
at  home  he  had  pulled  out  one  thing  after  another 
from  its  packing  or  hiding  place;  and  now,  mounted 
birds  and  animals,  coins,  shells,  minerals,  presses, 
engravings,  drawings  and  curiosities,  made  a  de 
lightful  litter;  delightful,  for  it  was  not  disorderly; 
only  gave  one  the  feeling  of  a  wealth  of  tastes  and 
pursuits  every  one  of  them  pursued  to  enjoyment. 
Betty  studied  the  place  and  the  several  objects  in 
it,  with  great  and  serious  attention. 

"  And  you  understand  all  these  things ! "  said 
she. 

"So  little,  that  I  am  ashamed  to  speak  of  it." 

"I  know!"  said  Betty;  "that  is  what  nobody 
says  whose  knowledge  is  small.  It  takes  a  good 
deal  of  knowing,  to  perceive  how  much  one  does 
not  know." 

"That  is  true." 

"And  what  becomes  of  all  these  riches  when 
you  are  gone  away  ?  " 

"  They  remain  in  seclusion.  I  must  pack  them 
up  to-day.  It  is  a  job  I  have  reserved  to  the  last, 
for  I  like  to  have  them  about  while  I  am  here." 

He  began  as  he  spoke  to  put  away  some  little 
articles,  and  got  out  paper  to  wrap  up  others. 

"  And  how  came  you  by  all  these  tastes  ?  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Dallas  do  not  share  them,  I  think." 

"  No.  Impossible  to  say.  Inherited  from  some 
forgotten  ancestor,  perhaps." 


LIFE  PLANS.  489 

"Were  there  ever  any  Independents,  or  Puritans, 
among  your  ancestors  ?  " 

"  No ! "  said  Pitt,  with  a  laughing  look  at  her. 
"  The  record  is  clean,  I  believe,  on  both  sides  of 
the  house.  My  mother  has  not  that  on  her  con 
science." 

"But  you  sympathize  with  such  supposititious 
ancestors  ?  " 

"  Why  do  yon  say  so  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Pitt,"  said  Betty,  sitting  down  and  folding 
her  hands  seriously  in  her  lap, — "  I  wish  you  would 
let  me  ask  you  one  thing." 

"  Ask  it  certainly,"  said  he. 

"But  it  is  really  not  my  business;  only,  I  am 
puzzled,  and  interested,  and  do  not  know  what  to 
think.  You  will  not  be  displeased  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  can  answer  for  that." 

"Then  do  tell  me  why,  when  you  are  just  going 
away  and  cannot  carry  it  on,  you  should  have 
done  what  you  did  last  night  ?  " 

"As  I  am  just  going  away,  don't  you  see,  it  was 
my  only  chance." 

"  But  I  do  not  understand  why  you  did  it.  You 
knew  it  would  be  something  like  an  earthquake; 
and  what  is  the  use  of  earthquakes  ?  " 

"  You  remember  the  Eastern  theory, — Burmese, 
is  it?  or  Siamese? — according  to  which  the  world 
rests  on  the  heads  of  four  elephants ;  when  one  of 
the  elephants  shakes  his  head,  there  is  an  earth 
quake.  But  must  not  the  elephant  therefore  move 
his  head?" 


490  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  But  the  world  does  not  rest  on  your  head." 

"  I  do  not  forget  that,"  said  Pitt  gravely.  "  Not 
the  world ;  but  a  small  piece  of  it  does  rest  on  my 
head,  as  on  that  of  every  other  human  creature. 
On  the  right  position  and  right  movement  of 
every  one  of  us,  depends  more  than  we  know. 
What  we  have  to  do  is  to  keep  straight  and  go 
straight." 

"But  did  you  think  it  was  duty,  to  do  what  you 
did  last  night  ?  " 

"I  did  it  in  that  faith." 

"  I  wish  you  would  explain  to  me ! "  cried,  the 
lady.  "I  cannot  understand.  I  believe  you  of 
course;  but  why  did  you  think  it  duty?  It  just 
raised  a  storm ;  you  know  it  did;  they  did  not  like 
it;  and  it  would  only  make  them  more  opposed  to 
your  new  principles.  I  do  not  see  how  it  could 
do  any  good." 

"Yes,"  said  Pitt,  who  meanwhile  was  going  on 
with  his  packing  and  putting  away.  "  I  know  all 
that.  But  don't  you  think  people  ought  to  shew 
their  colours? — as  mujh  as  ships  at  sea?" 

"  Ships  at  sea  do  not  always  shew  their  colours." 

"  If  they  do  not,  when  there  is  occasion,  it  is 
always  ground  for  suspicion.  It  shews  that  they 
are  for  some  reason  either  afraid  or  ashamed  to 
announce  themselves." 

"  I  do  not  understand ! "  said  Miss  Frere  per 
plexedly.  "  Why  should  you  shew  your  colours  ?  " 

"  I  said  I  was  moved  by  duty  to  propose  prayers 
last  night.  It  was  more  than  that."  Pitt  stopped 


LIFE  PLANS.  491 

in  his  going  about  the  room  and  stood  opposite  his 
-fair  opponent,  if  she  can  be  called  so,  facing  her  with 
steady  eyes  and  a  light  in  them  which  drew  her  won 
der.  "  It  was  more  than  duty.  Since  I  have  come 
to  see  the  goodness  of  Christ,  and  the  happiness 
of  belonging  to  him,  I  wish  exceedingly  that  every 
body  else  should  see  it  and  know  it  as  I  do." 

"And  if  I  remember,  you  intimated  once  that  it 
was  to  be  the  business  of  your  life  to  make  them 
know  it  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  purpose  ?  " 

"It  seems  to  me  extravagant." 

"  Otherwise — fanatical ! " 

u  I  would  not  express  it  so.  But  what  are  clergy 
men  for,  if  this  is  your  business?  " 

"  To  whom  was  the  command  given  ?  " 

"To  the  apostles,  and  their  successors." 

"No,  it  was  given  to  the  whole  band  of  disciples; 
the  order  to  go  into  all  the  world  and  make  disciples 
of  every  creature." 

"  All  the  disciples ! " 

"And  to  all  the  disciples  that  other  command 
was  given — '  Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should 
do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them.'  And  of  all  the 
things  that  a  man  can  want  and  desire  to  have 
given  him,  there  is  nothing  comparable  for  precious- 
ness  to  the  knowledge  of  Christ." 

"  But  Mr.  Dallas,  this  is  not  the  general  way  of 
thinking?" 

"  Among  those  who  " — he  paused, — "  who  are 
glad  in  the  love  of  Christ,  I  think  it  must  be." 


492  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Then  what  are  those  who  are  not  'glad*  in 
that  way  ?  " 

"  Greatly  to  be  pitied  !  "— - 

There  was  a  little  pause.  Pitt  went  on  busily 
with  his  work.  Betty  sat  and  looked  at  him,  and 
looked  at  the  varieties  of  things  he  was  putting 
under  shelter  or  out  of  the  way.  One  after  an 
other,  all  bearing  their  witness  to  the  tastes  and 
appetite  for  knowledge  possessed  by  the  person 
who  had  gathered  them  together.  Yes,  if  Pitt  was 
not  a  scientist,  he  was  very  fond  of  sciences;  and 
if  he  were  not  to  be  called  an  artist  in  some  kinds, 
he  was  full  of  feeling  for  art.  What  an  anomaly 
he  was !  how  very  unlike  this  room  looked  to  the 
abode  of  a  fanatic  ! — 

"What  is  to  become  of  all  these  things?"  she 
asked,  pursuing  her  thoughts. 

11  They  will  be  safe  here,  till  I  return." 

"Bat  I  mean! — You  do  not  understand  me.  I 
was  thinking  rather,  what  would  become  of  all  the 
tastes  and  likings  to  which  they  bear  evidence? 
How  do  they  match  with  your  new  views  of 
things?" 

"  How  do  they  not  match  ?  "  said  Pitt,  stopping 
short. 

"You  spoke  of  giving  up  all  things,  did  you 
not?" 

"The  Bible  does,"  said  Pitt  smiling.  "But  that 
is,  if  need  be  for  the  service  or  honour  of  God.  Did 
you  think  they  were  to  be  renounced  in  all  cases  ?  " 

"  Then  what  did  you  mean  ?  " 


LIFE  PLAINS.  493 

"  The  Bible  means,  evidently,  that  we  are  to  be  so 
minded,  toward  them  and  toward  God,  that  we  are 
ready  to  give  them  up  and  do  give  them  up  just  so 
far  and  so  fast  as  his  service  calls  for  it.  That  is  all, 
— and  it  is  enough !  " 

Betty  watched  him  a  little  longer  and  then  be 
gan  again. 

"  You  say,  it  is  to  be  the  business  of  your  life  to 
— well,  how  shall  I  put  it  ? — to  set  people  right,  in 
short.  Why  don't  you  begin  at  the  beginning,  and 
attack  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  point  my  guns." 

"Why?     Do  you  think  me  such  a  hard  case?" 

He  hesitated,  and  said  "  Yes." 

"Why?"  she  asked  again,  with  a  mixture  of 
mortification  and  curiosity. 

"Your  defences  have  withstood  all  I  have  been 
able  to  bring  to  bear  in  the  shape  of  ordnance." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  I  have  been  very  much 
interested  in  all  I  have  heard  you  say." 

"  I  know  that; — and  not  in  the  least  moved." 

Betty  was  vexed.  Had  her  tactics  failed  so  ut 
terly  ?  Did  Pitt  think  she  was  a  person  quite  and 
irremediably  out  of  his  plane  and  inaccessible  to 
the  interests  which  he  ranked  first  of  all  ?  She  had 
wanted  to  get  nearer  to  him.  Had  she  so  failed  ? 
She  would  not  let  the  tears  come  into  her  eyes,  but 
they  were  ready,  if  she  would  have  let  them. 

"  So  you  give  me  up  !  "  she  said. 

"  I  have  no  alternative." 

"  You  have  lost  all  hope  of  me  ?  " 


494  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"No.  But  at  present  your  eyes  are  so  set  in 
another  direction  that  you  will  not  look  the  way  I 
have  been  pointing  you.  Of  course  you  do  not  see 
what  I  see." 

"  In  what  direction  are  my  eyes  so  set  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  presume  to  tell  Miss  Frere  what  she 
knows  so  much  better  than  I  do." 

Betty  bit  her  lip. 

"What  is  in  that  cabinet?"  she  asked  suddenly. 

"  Coins." 

"  Oh,  coins !  I  never  could  see  the  least  attract 
iveness  in  coins." 

"That  was  because — like  some  other  things — 
they  were  not  looked  at." 

"  Well,  what  is  the  interest  of  them  ?  " 

"  To  find  out,  I  am  afraid  you  must  give  them 
your  attention.  They  are  like  witnesses,  stepping 
out  from  the  darkness  of  the  past  and  telling  the 
history  of  it;  history  in  which  they  moved  and  had 
a  part,  you  understand." 

"  But  the  history  of  the  past  is  not  so  delightful, 
is  it,  that  one  would  care  much  about  hearing  the 
witnesses?  What  is  in  that  other  cabinet, where 
you  are  standing  ?  " 

"  That  contains  my  herbarium." 

"  All  that  ?  You  don't  mean  that  all  those  draw- 
ers  are  filled  with  dried  flowers  ?  " 

"Pretty  well  filled.  There  is  room  for  some 
more." 

"  How  you  must  have  worked !  " 

"  That  was  play." 


LIFE  PLANS.  495 

"  Then  what  do  you  call  work  ?  " 

"  Well,  reading  law  rather  comes  irito  that  cate 
gory." 

"  You  expect  to  go  on  reading  law  ?  " 

"  For  the  present.  I  approve  of  finishing  things 
when  they  are  begun." 

"  Mr.  Dallas,  what  are  you  going  to  do.  In  what, 
after  all,  are  you  going  to  be  unlike  other  men? 
Your  mother  seems  to  apprehend  some  disastrous 
and  mysterious  change  in  all  your  prospects;  I  can 
not  see  the  necessity  of  that.  In  what  are  you 
going  to  be  other  than  she  wishes  you  to  be  ?  Are 
not  her  fears  mistaken  ?  " 

Pitt  smiled  a  grave  smile ;  again  stopped  in  his 
work  and  stood  opposite  her. 

"  I  might  say  '  yes '  and  '  no,' "  he  answered.  "  I 
do  not  expect  to  have  a  red  cross  embroidered  on 
my  sleeve,  like  the  old  crusaders.  But  judge  your 
self.  Can  those  who  live  to  do  the  will  of  God  be 
just  like  those  whose  one  concern  is  to  do  their 
own  will  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Dallas!  you  insinuate,  or  your  words  might 
be  taken  to  insinuate,  that  all  the  rest  of  us  are  in 
the  latter  class  !  " 

"  Whose  will  do  you  do  ?  "  he  said. 

There  was  no  answer,  for  Betty  had  too  much 
pluck  to  speak  falsely,  and  too  much  sense  not  to 
know  what  was  truth.  She  accordingly  did  not 
say  anything,  and  after  waiting  a  minute  or  two 
Pitt  went  on  with  his  preparations;  locking  up 
drawers,  packing  up  boxes,  taking  down  and  put- 


496  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

ting  away  the  many  objects  that  filled  the  room. 
There  was  not  a  little  work  of  this  sort  to  be  done, 
and  he  went  on  with  it  busily,  and  with  an  evi 
dently  trained  and  skilled  hand. 

"Then,  after  finishing  with  law,  do  you  expect 
to  come   back  here  and  unpack  all  these  pretty 
things  again  ?  "  she  said  finally. 
"  Perhaps.     I  do  not  know." 
"  Perhaps  you  will  settle  in  England  ?  " 
"  I  do  not  yet  know  what  is  the  work  that  I  have 
to  do  in  the  world.     I  shall  know,  but  I  do  not 
know  now.     It  may  be  to  go  to  India,  or  to  Green 
land;  or  it  may  be  to  come  here.     Though  I  do  not 
now  see  what  I  should  do  in  Seaforth  that  would 
be  worth  living  for." 

India  or  Greenland  !  For  a  young  man  who  was 
heir  to  no  end  of  money  and  would  have  acres  of 
land !  Miss  Betty  perceived  that  here  was  some 
thing  indeed  very  different  from  the  general  run 
of  rich  young  men,  and  that  Mrs.  Dallas  had  not 
been  so  far  wrong  in  her  forebodings.  How  very 
absurd !  she  said  to  herself  as  she  went  away  down 
the  open  staircase ;  and  what  a  pity  1 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 
SKIRMISHING. 

TO  the  great  chagrin  of  his  mother,  and  indeed 
of  everybody,  Pitt  took  his  departure  a  few 
days  before  the  necessary,  set  termination  of  his 
visit.  He  must,  he  declared,  have  a  few  days  to 
run  down  from  London  into  the  country  and  find 
out  the  Gainsborough  family;  if  Col.  Gainsborough 
and  his  daughter  had  really  gone  home,  he  must 
know. 

44  What  on  earth  do  you  want  to  know  for  ?  "  his 
lather  had  angrily  asked.  "  What  concern  is  it  to 
you,  in  any  way  ?  Pitt,  I  wish  you  would  take  all 
the  time  you  have  and  use  it  to  make  yourself 
agreeable  to  Miss  Frere.  Where  could  you  do 
better?" 

41 1  have  no  time  for  that  now,  sir." 

44  Time ! — what  is  time  ?    Don't  you  admire  her  ? 

"  Everyone  must  do  that." 

44 1  have  an  idea  she  don't  dislike  you.  It  would 
suit  your  mother  arid  me  very  well.  She  has  not 
money;  but  she  has  everything  else.  There  has 
been  no  girl  more  admired  in  Washington  these 

(497) 


498  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

two  winters  past;  no  girl.  You  would  have  a 
prize,  I  can  tell  you,  that  many  a  one  would  like 
to  hinder  your  getting." 

"I  have  no  time,  sir,  now;  and  I  must  find  out 
my  old  friends,  first  of  all." 

"Do  you  mean,  yon  want  to  marry  that  girl?" 
said  Mr.  Dallas,  imprudently  flaming  out. 

Pitt  was  at  the  moment  engaged  in  mending 
up  a  precious  old  volume,  which  by  reason  of  age 
and  use  had  become  dangerously  dilapidated.  He 
was  manipulating  skilfully,  as  one  accustomed  to 
the  business,  with  awl  and  a  large  needle,  surrounded 
by  his  glue  pot  and  bits  of  leather  and  paper.  At 
the  question  he  lifted  up  his  head  and  looked  at  his 
father.  Mr.  Dallas  did  not  like  the  look;  it  was 
too  keen  and  had  too  much  recognition  in  it;  he 
feared  he  had  unwarily  shewed  his  play.  But  Pitt 
answered  then  quietly,  going  on  with  his  work 
again. 

"I  said  nothing  of  that,  sir;  I  do  not  know  any 
thing  about  that.  My  old  friends  may  be  in  dis 
tress;  both  or  one  of  them;  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely, 
I  think.  If  things  had  gone  well  with  them  you 
would  have  been  almost  sure  to  hear  of  their  where 
abouts  at  least.  I  made  a  promise,  at  any  rate,  and 
I  am  bound  to  find  them,  one  side  or  the  other  of 
the  Atlantic." 

"Don  Quixote!"  muttered  his  father.  "Col. 
Gainsborough,  I  have  no  doubt,  has  gone  home  to 
his  people,  whom  he  ought  never  to  have  left." 

"In  that  case  I  can  certainly  find  them." 


SKIRMISHING.  499 

Mr.  Dallas  seldom  made  the  mistake  of  spoiling 
his  cause  with  words;  he  let  the  matter  drop, 
though  his  mouth  was  full  of  things  he  would  have 
liked  to  speak. 

So  the  time  came  for  Pitt's  departure,  and  he 
went;  and  the  two  women  he  left  behind  him  hardly 
dared  to  look  at  each  other;  the  one  lest  she  should 
betray  her  sorrow,  and  the  other  lest  she  should  seem 
to  see  it.  Betty  honestly  suffered.  She  had  found 
Pitt's  society  delightful;  it  had  all  the  urbanity 
without  the  emptiness  of  that  she  was  accustomed 
to.  Whether  right  or  wrong,  he  was  undoubtedly 
a  person  in  earnest,  who  meant  his  life  to  be  some 
thing  more  than  a  dream  or  a  play,  and  who  had 
higher  ends  in  view  than  to  understand  dining,  or 
even  to  be  an  acknowledged  critic  of  light  litera 
ture,  or  a  leader  of  fashion.  Higher  ends  even  than 
to  be  at  the  head  of  the  State  or  a  leader  of  its  ar 
mies.  There  was  enough  natural  nobleness  in  Betty 
to  understand  Pitt,  at  least  in  a  degree,  and  to  be 
mightily  attracted  by  all  this.  And  his  temper  was 
so  fine,  his  manners  so  pleasant,  his  tender  deference 
to  his  mother  so  beautiful.  Ah,  such  a  man's  wife 
would  be  well  sheltered  from  some  of  the  harshest 
winds  that  blow  in  the  face  of  human  nature.  Even 
if  he  were  a  little  fanatical,  it  was  a  fanaticism 
which  Betty  half  hoped,  half  inconsistently  feared, 
would  fade  away  with  time.  He  had  staid  just 
long  enough  to  kindle  a  tire  in  her  heart,  which 
now  she  could  not  with  a  blow  or  a  breath  extin 
guish  ;  not  long  enough  for  the  fire  to  catch  any 


500  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

loose  tinder  lying  about  on  the  outskirts  of  his 
Pitt  rode  away  heartwhole,  she  was  obliged  to  con 
fess  to  herself,  so  far  at  least  as  she  was  concerned; 
and  Betty  had  nothing  to  do  now  but  to  feel  how  that 
fire  bit  her,  and  to  stifle  the  smoke  of  it.  Mrs.  Dal 
las  was  a  woman  and  a  mother,  and  she  saw  what 
Betty  would  not  have  had  her  see  for  any  money. 

"  /  think  Pitt  was  taken  with  her,"  she  said  to 
her  husband,  as  one  seeks  to  strengthen  a  faint 
belief  by  putting  it  into  words. 

"  He  is  taken  with  nothing  but  his  own  obstinacy!" 
growled  Mr.  Dallas. 

"His  obstinacy  never  troubled  you,"  said  the 
mother.  "  Pitt  was  always  like  that,  but  never  for 
anything  bad." 

"It's  for  something  foolish,  then;  and  that  will 
do  as  well." 

"  Did  you  sound  him  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

"And  what  did  he  say?" 

"Said  he  must  see  Esther  Gainsborough  first, 
confound  him ! " 

"  Esther  Gainsborough ! —  But  he  tried  and  could 
not  find  them." 

"  He  will  try  on  the  other  side  now.  He'll  waste 
his  time  running  all  over  England  to  discover  the 
family  place;  and  then  he  will  know  that  there  is 
more  looking  to  be  done  in  America." 

"And  he  talked  of  coming  over  next  year! — 
Husband,  he  must  not  come.  We  must  go  over 
there." 


SKIRMISHING.  501 

"  Next  summer.  Yes,  that  is  the  only  thing  to  do." 
"And  we  will  take  Betty  Frere  along  with  us." 
Mrs.  Dallas  said  nothing  of  this  scheme  at  pres 
ent  to  the  young  lady,  though  it  comforted  herself. 
Perhaps  it  would  have  comforted  Betty  too,  whose 
hopes  rested  on  the  very  faint  possibility  of  another 
summer's  gathering  at  Seaforth.  That  was  a  very 
doubtful  possibility;  the  hope  built  upon  it  was  va- 
porously  unsubstantial.  She  debated  with  herself 
whether  the  best  thing  were  not  to  take  the  first 
passable  offer  that  should  present  itself,  marry  and 
settle  down,  and  so  deprive  herself  of  the  power  of 
thinking  about  Pitt,  and  him  of  the  fancy  that  she 
ever  had  thought  about  him.  Poor  girl,  she  had 
verified  the  truth  of  the  word  which  speaks  about 
going  on  hot  coals;  she  had  burned  her  feet.  She 
had  never  done  it  before;  she  had  played  with  a 
dozen  men  at  different  times,  allowed  them  to  come 
near  enough  to  be  looked  at,  dallied  with  them, 
discussed,  and  rejected,  successively,  without  her 
own  heart  ever  even  coming  in  danger;  as  to  dan 
ger  to  their's,  that  indeed  had  not  been  taken  into 
consideration,  or  had  not  excited  any  scruple. 
Now,  now,  the  fire  bit  her,  and  she  could  not  stifle 
it;  and  a  grave  doubt  came  over  her  whether  even 
that  expedient  of  marriage  might  be  found  able  to 
stifle  it.  She  went  away  from  Seaforth  a  few  days 
after  Pitt's  departure,  a  sadder  woman  than  she  had 
come  to  it,  though  I  fear  scarce  a  wiser. 

On  her  way  to  Washington  she  tarried  a  few 
days  in  New  York;  and  there  it  chanced  that  she 


502  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

had  a  meeting  which  in  the  young  lady's  then 
state  of  mind  had  a  tremendous  interest  for  her. 
Society  in  New  York  at  that  day  was  very  little 
like  society  there  now.  Even  granting  that  the 
same  principles  of  human  nature  underlay  its 
developments,  the  developments  were  different. 
Small  companies,  even  of  fashionable  people,  could 
come  together  for  an  evening;  dancing,  although 
loved  and  practised,  did  riot  quite  exclude  conver 
sation;  supper  was  a  far  less  magnificent  affair; 
and  fashion  itself  was  much  more  necessarily  and 
universally  dependent  on  the  accessories  of  birth, 
breeding,  and  education,  than  is  the  case  at  present. 
It  was  known  who  everybody  was;  parvenus  were 
few ;  and  there  was  still  a  flavour  left  of  old  world 
traditions  and  colonial  antecedents.  So  when  Miss 
Frere  was  invited  to  one  of  the  best  houses  in  the 
city  to  spend  the  evening,  she  was  not  surprised  to 
find  only  a  moderate  little  company  assembled,  and 
dresses  and  appointments  on  an  easy  and  unostenta 
tious  footing  which  now  is  nearly  unheard-of.  There 
was  elegance  enough  however,  both  in  the  dresses 
and  persons  of  many  of  those  present;  and  Betty 
was  quite  in  her  element,  finding  herself  as  usual 
surrounded  by  attentive  and  admiring  eyes,  and 
able  to  indulge  her  love  of  conversation;  for  this 
young  lady  liked  talking  better  than  dancing.  In 
deed  there  was  no  dancing  in  the  early  part  of  the 
evening;  it  was  rather  a  musical  company,  and 
Betty's  favourite  amusement  was  often  interrupted; 
for  the  music  was  too  good  and  the  people  present 


SKIRMISHING.  503 

too  well-bred  to  allow  of  that  jumble  of  sounds 
musical  and  unmusical  which  is  so  distressing,  and 
alas,  not  so  rare. 

Several  bits  of  fine  old-fashioned  music  had  been 
given,  from  Mozart  and  Beethoven  and  Handel;  and 
Betty  had  got  into  full  swing  of  conversation  again, 
when  a  pause  around  her  gave  notice  that  another 
performer  was  taking  her  seat  at  the  piano.  Betty 
checked  her  speech  with  a  little  impulse  of  vexa 
tion  and  cast  her  eyes  across  the  room. 

"  Who  is  it  now  ?  "  she  asked. 

There  was  a  little  murmur  of  question  and  an 
swer,  for  the  gentleman  immediately  at  hand  did 
not  know;  then  she  was  told,  "It  is  a  Miss  Gains 
borough." 

''Gainsborough!" — Betty's  eyes  grew  large  and 
her  face  took  a  sudden  gravity.  "  What  Gains 
borough  ?  " 

Nobody  knew.  "  English,  I  believe,"  somebody 
said. 

All  desire  to  talk  died  out  of  Betty's  lips ;  she 
became  as  silent  as  the  most  rigid  decorum  could 
have  demanded,  and  applied  herself  to  listen,  and 
of  course  those  around  her  were  becomingly  silent 
also.  What  was  the  astonishment  of  them  all,  to 
hear  the  notes  of  a  hymn,  and  then  the  hymn  it 
self,  sung  by  a  sweet  voice  with  very  clear  accent, 
so  that  every  word  was  audible.  The  hymn  was 
not  known  to  Miss  Frere;  it  was  fine  and  striking; 
and  the  melody,  also  unfamiliar,  was  exceedingly 
simple.  Everybody  listened,  that  was  manifest;  it 


504  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

was  more  than  the  silence  of  politeness  which 
reigned  in  the  rooms  until  the  last  note  was  ended. 
And  Betty  listened,  more  eagerly  than  anybody, 
and  a  strange  thrill  ran  through  her.  The  voice 
which  sang  the  hymn  was  not  finer,  not  so  fine,  as 
many  a  one  she  had  heard; it  was  thoroughly  sweet 
and  had  a  very  full  and  rich  tone ;  its  power  was 
only  moderate.  The  peculiarity  lay  in  the  manner 
with  which  the  meaning  was  breathed  into  the 
notes.  Betty  could  not  get  rid  of  the  fancy  that  it 
was  a  spirit  singing,  and  not  a  woman.  Simpler 
musical  utterance  she  had  never  heard,  nor  any, 
in  her  life,  that  so  went  to  the  heart.  She  listened, 
and  wondered  as  she  listened,  what  it  was  that  so 
moved  her.  The  voice  was  tender,  pleading,  joyous, 
triumphant.  How  anybody  should  dare  sing  such 
words  in  a  mixed  company,  Betty  could  not  con 
ceive;  yet  she  envied  the  singer;  and  heard  with  a 
strange  twinge  at  her  heart  the  words  of  the  chorus, 
which  was  given  with  the  most  penetrating  ring 
of  truth — 

11  Glory,  glory,  glory,  glory, 

Glory  be  to  God  on  high, 
Glory,  glory,  glory,  glory, 

Sing  his  praises  through  the  sky; 
Glory,  glory,  glory,  glory, 

Glory  to  the  Father  give ; 
Glory,  glory,  glory,  glory, 

Sing  his  praises,  all  that  live  1 " 

The  hymn  went  on  to  offer  Christ's  salvation  to 
all  who  would  have  it;  and  closed  with  a  variation 


SKIRMISHING.  505 

of  the  chorus,  taken  from  the  song  of  the  redeemed 
in  heaven — "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain." 

As  sweet  and  free  as  the  jubilant  shout  of  a  bird 
the  notes  rang;  with  a  lift  in  them  however  which 
the  unthinking  creature  neither  knows  nor  can  ex 
press.  Betty's  eye  roved  once  or  twice  round  the 
room  during  the  singing  to  see  how  the  song  was 
taken  by  the  rest  of  the  company.  All  listened, 
but  she  could  perceive  that  some  were  bored  and 
some  others  shocked.  Others  looked  curiously 
grave. 

The  music  ceased  and  the  singer  rose.  Nobody 
proposed  that  she  should  sing  again. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  good  taste  of  that  ?  " 
one  of  Betty's  cavaliers  asked  her  softly. 

"  0  don't  talk  about  good  taste !     Who  is  she  ?  " 

"  I — really,  I  don't  know — I  believe  somebody 
said  she  was  a  teacher  somewhere.  She  has  tried 
her  hand  on  us,  hasn't  she  ?  " 

u  A  teacher ! "  Betty  repeated  the  word,  but 
gave  no  attention  to  the  question.  She  was  look 
ing  across  the  room  at  the  musician,  who  was  stand 
ing  by  the  piano  talking  with  a  gentleman.  The 
apartment  was  not  so  large  but  that  she  could  see 
plainly,  while  it  was  large  enough  to  save  her  from 
the  charge  of  ill-bred  staring.  She  saw  a  moder 
ately  tall  figure,  as  straight  as  an  Indian,  with  the 
head  exquisitely  set  on  the  shoulders.  The  head  it 
self  covered  with  an  abundance  of  pale  brown  hair, 
disposed  at  the  back  in  a  manner  of  careless  grace 
which  reminded  Betty  of  a  head  of  Sappho  on  an 


506  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

old  gem  in  her  possession.  The  face  she  could  not 
see  quite  so  well,  for  it  was  partly  turned  from  her; 
Betty's  attention  centred  on  the  figure  and  carriage. 
A  pang  of  jealous  rivalry  shot  through  her  as  she 
looked.  There  was  not  a  person  in  the  room  that 
carried  her  head  so  nobly,  nor  whose  pose  was  so 
stately  and  graceful;  yet  stately  as  it  was,  it  had 
no  air  of  proud  self-consciousness,  nor  of  pride  at 
all ;  it  was  not  that;  it  was  simple  maidenly  dignity, 
not  dignity  aped.  Betty  read  so  much,  and  rapidly 
read  what  else  she  could  see.  She  saw  that  the  fig 
ure  she  was  admiring  was  dressed  but  indifferently; 
the  black  silk  had  certainly  seen  its  best  days, 
if  it  was  not  exactly  shabby;  no  ornaments  what 
ever  were  worn  with  it.  The  fashion  of  garments 
at  that  day  was,  as  I  have  remarked,  very  trying 
to  any  but  a  good  figure,  while  it  certainly  shewed 
such  a  one  to  advantage.  Betty  knew  her  own 
figure  could  bear  comparison  with  most;  the  one 
she  was  looking  at  would  bear  comparison  with 
any.  Miss  Gainsborough  was  standing  in  the 
most  absolute  quiet,  the  arms  crossed  over  one  an 
other,  with  no  ornament  but  their  whiteness. 

"A  good  deal  of  a  plomb  there?"  whispered 
one  of  Betty's  attendants  who  saw  whither  her 
eyes  had  gone. 

"2  plomb!"  repeated  Betty.  "That  is  not  d 
plomb  !  " 

"Isn't  it?     Why  not?" 

"  It  is  something  else,"  said  Betty,  eyeing  still 
the  figure  she  was  commenting  on.  "You  don't 


SKIRMISHING.  507 

speak  of  balance  unless — how  shall  I  put  it  ?  Don't 
you  know  what  I  mean  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  laughed  her  companion. 

"  You  might  save  me  the  trouble  of  telling  you, 
if  you  were  clever.  You  know  you  do  not  speak 
of  '  balance,'  except — well,  except  where  either  the 
footing  or  the  feet  are  somehow  doubtful.  You 
would  not  think  of  '  balance '  as  belonging  to  a 
mountain." 

"  A  mountain !  "  said  the  other,  looking  over  at 
Esther  and  still  laughing. 

"  Yes,  I  grant  you  there  is  not  much  in  common 
between  the  two  things;  only  that  element  of  un- 
disturbableness.  Do  you  know  Miss  Gainsborough?" 

"  I  have  not  the  honour.  I  have  never  met  her 
before." 

"  I  must  know  her.  Who  can  introduce  me  ? " 
And  finding  her  hostess  at  this  moment  near  her, 
Betty  went  on. — "Dear  Mrs.  Chatsworth,  do  take 
me  over  and  introduce  me  to  Miss  Gainsborough ! 
I  am  filled  with  admiration  and  curiosity.  But 
first,  who  is  she  ?  " 

u  I  really  can  tell  you  little.  She  is  a  great  favour 
ite  of  my  friend  Miss  Fairbairn ;  that  is  how  I  came 
to  know  her.  She  teaches  in  Mme.  Duval's  school. 
She  is  English,  I  believe.  Miss  Fairbairn  says,  she 
is  very  highly  accomplished;  and  I  believe  it  is 
true." 

"Well  please  introduce  me.  I  am  dying  to 
know  her." 

The  introduction  was  made;  the  gentleman  who 


508  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

had  been  talking  to  Miss  Gainsborough  withdrew ; 
the  two  girls  were  left  face  to  face. 

Yes,  what  a  face ! — thought  Betty,  as  soon  as  it 
was  turned  upon  her;  and  with  every  minute  of 
their  being  together  the  feeling  grew.  Not  like 
any  face  she  had  ever  seen  in  her  life,  Betty  de 
cided;  what  the  difference  was  it  took  longer  to 
determine.  Good  features,  with  refinement  in  every 
line  of  them;  a  fair,  delicate  skin,  matching  the 
pale  brown  hair ;  Betty  had  seen  as  good  repeatedly. 
What  she  had  not  seen  was  what  attracted  her. 
The  brow,  broad  and  intellectual,  had  a  most  beauti 
ful  repose  upon  it ;  and  from  under  it  looked  forth 
upon  Betty  two  glorious  grey  eyes,  pure,  grave, 
thoughtful,  penetrating,  sweet.  Yet  more  than  all 
the  rest,  perhaps,  which  struck  Miss  Frere,  was  an 
expression,  in  mouth  and  eyes  both,  which  is  seen 
on  no  faces  but  of  those  who  have  gone  through  dis 
cipline  and  have  learned  the  habit  of  self-renuncia 
tion,  endurance,  and  loving  ministry. 

The  two  girls  sat  down  together  at  Betty's 
instance. 

"Will  you  forgive  me?"  she  said.  "I  am  a 
stranger,  but  I  do  want  to  ask  you  a  question  or 
two.  May  I  ?  and  will  you  hear  me  patiently  ?  I 
see  you  will." 

The  other  made  a  courteous,  half  smiling,  sign 
of  assent;  not  as  if  she  were  surprised.  Betty  no 
ticed  that. 

"  It  is  very  bold,  for  a  stranger,"  she  went  on, 
making  her  observations  while  she  spoke ;  "  but  the 


SKIRMISHING.  509 

thing  is  earnest  with  me,  and  I  must  seize  my  cnance, 
if  it  is  a  chance.  It  has  happened,"  she  lowered 
her  voice  somewhat  and  her  words  came  slower, 
— "  it  has  happened,  that  I  have  been  studying  the 
subject  of  religion  a  good  deal  lately;  it  interests 
me ;  and  I  want  to  ask  you — Why  did  you  sing  that 
hymn?  " 

"  That  particular  hymn  ?  " 

"No,  no;  I  mean,  why  did  you  sing  a  hymn  at 
all?  It  is  not  the  usual  thing,  you  know." 

"May  I  ask  you  a  counter  question?  What 
should  be  the  motive  with  which  one  sings,  or  does 
anything  of  the  sort  ?  " 

"Motive?  why,  to  please  people,  I  suppose." 

"And  you  think  my  choice  was  not  happy?" 

What  does  she  ask  me  that  for?  thought  Betty; 
she  knows,  just  as  well  as  I  do,  what  people  thought 
of  it.  What  is  she  up  to  ? — But  aloud  she  answered, 

"  I  think  it  was  very  happy,  as  regarded  the 
choice  of  the  hymn ;  it  was  peculiar,  but  very  effec 
tive.  My  question  meant,  why  did  you  sing  a 
hymn  at  all  ?  " 

"I  will  tell  you,"  said  the  other.  "I  do  not 
know  if  you  will  understand  me.  I  sang  that,  be 
cause  I  have  given  myself  to  Christ,  and  my  voice 
must  be  used  only  as  his  servant." 

Quick  as  thought  it  flashed  upon  Betty,  the 
words  she  had  heard  Pitt  Dallas  quote  so  lately; 
quote  and  descant  upon;  about  giving  his  body 
"  a  living  sacrifice."  How  you  two  think  alike  !  was 
her  instant  reflection;  and  how  you  would  fit  if 


510  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

you  could  come  together !  which  you  never  shall, 
if  I  can  prevent  it.  But  her  face  shewed  only  se 
rious  attention  and  interest. 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand,"  she  said.  "  Your 
words  are  so  unusual — " 

"  I  cannot  put  my  meaning  in  simpler  words." 

"Then  do  you  think  it  wrong  to  sing  common 
songs  ?  those  everybody  sings  ?  " 

"/  cannot  sing  them,"  said  Esther  simply.  "  My 
voice  is  Christ's  servant."  But  the  smile  with 
which  these  (to  Betty)  severe  words  were  spoken, 
was  entirely  charming.  There  was  not  severity 
but  gladness  upon  every  line  of  the  curving  lips, 
along  with  a  trait  of  tenderness  which  touched 
Betty's  heart.  In  all  her  life  she  had  never  had 
such  a  feeling  of  inferiority.  She  had  given  due 
reverence  to  persons  older  than  herself;  it  was  the 
fashion  in  those  days;  she  had  acknowledged  a 
certain  social  precedence  in  ladies  who  were  leaders 
of  society  and  heads  of  families ;  she  had  never  had 
such  a  feeling  of  being  set  down,  as  before  this 
young,  pure,  stately  creature.  Mentally,  Betty  as 
it  were  stepped  dqwn  from  the  dais  and  stood 
with  her  arms  folded  over  her  breast,  in  the  East 
ern  attitude  of  reverence,  during  the  rest  of  the 
interview. 

"  Then  you  do  not  do  anything,"  said  Betty  in 
credulously,  "  if  you  cannot  do  it  so  ?  " 

"Not  if  I  know  it,"  the  other  said,  smiling  more 
broadly  and  with  some  archness. 

"  But  still, — May  I  speak  frankly  ?- — that  does  not 


SKIRMISHING.  511 

tell  me  all.     You  know,  you  must  know,  that  not 
everybody  would  like  your  choice  of  music  ?  " 

"  I  suppose,  very  few." 

"  Would  it  do  any  good,  in  any  way,  to  displease 
them  ?  " 

"  That  is  not  the  first  question.  The  first  ques 
tion,  in  any  case,  is,  How  may  I  best  do  this  thing 
for  God? — for  his  honour  and  his  kingdom." 

"  I  do  not  see  what  his  honour  and  his  kingdom 
have  to  do  with  it." 

"It  is  for  his  honour  that  his  servants  should 
obey  him,  is  it  not?"  said  Esther  with  another 
smile.  "And  is  it  not  for  his  kingdom,  that  his 
invitations  should  be  given  ?  " 

"  But  here— ?  " 

"  Why  not  here  ?  " 

"  It  is  unusual — " 

"I  have  no  business  to  be  anywhere,  where  I 
cannot  do  it." 

"  That  sounds — dreadful !  "  said  Betty  honestly. 

"Why?" 

"  0  it  sounds  strict,  narrow,  like  a  sort  of  sla 
very,  as  if  one  could  never  be  free — " 

"Free  for  what?" 

"  Whatever  one  likes !  -  I  should  be  miserable  if 
I  felt  I  could  not  do  what  1  liked ! " 

"  Can  you  do  it  now  ?  "  said  Esther. 

"Well,  not  always;  but  I  am  free  to  try,"  said 
Betty  frankly. 

"  Is  that  your  definition  of  happiness  ?  to  try  for 
that  which  you  cannot  attain." 


512  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  I  do  attain  it, — sometimes." 

"And  keep  it?" 

"  Keep  it !  You  cannot  keep  anything  in  this 
world." 

"  I  do  not  think  anything  is  happiness,  that  you 
cannot  keep." 

"  But — if  you  come  to  that — what  can  you  keep  ?  " 
said  Betty. 

Esther  bent  forward  a  little,  and  said  with  an  in 
tense  gleam  in  her  grey  eyes,  which  seemed  to 
dance  and  sparkle, 

" '  Jesus  Chrisl:,  the  same  yesterday,  and  to-day, 
and  for  ever.' " 

"  I  do  not  know  him — "  Betty  breathed  out,  after 
staring  at  her  companion. 

"  I  saw  that." 

Esther  rose,  and  Betty  felt  constrained  to  rise 
too. 

"0  are  you  going?"  she  cried.  "I  have  not 
done  talking.  How  can  I  know  him  ?  " 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  yes." 

"  If  you  are  in  dead  earnest,  and  seek  him,  he  will 
reveal  himself  to  you.  But  then,  you  must  be 
willing  to  obey  every  word  he  says.  Good  night." 

She  offered  her  hand.  Before  Miss  Frere  how 
ever  could  take  it,  up  came  the  lady  of  the  house. 

"You  are  not  going,  Miss  Gainsborough?" 

"  My  father  would  be  uneasy  if  I  staid  out  late.'' 

u  0  well,  for  once !  What  have  you  two  been 
talking  about?  I  saw  several  gentlemen  casting 


SKIRMISHING.  513 

longing  looks  in  this  direction,  but  they  did  not 
venture  to  interrupt.  What  were  you  discussing  ?  " 

"  Life  in  general,"  said  Betty. 

"  Life  !  "  echoed  the  older  woman,  and  her  brow 
was  instantly  clouded.  "  What  is  the  use  of  talk 
ing  about  that?  Can  either  of  you  say  that  her 
life  is  not  a  failure  ?  " 

"  Miss  Gainsborough  will  say  that,"  replied  Betty. 
"  As  for  me,  my  life  is  a  problem  that  I  have  not 
solved." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  *  failure,'  Mrs.  Chats- 
worth  ?  "  the  other  girl  asked. 

"  0  just  a  failure !  Turning  out  nothing, — com 
ing  to  nothing;  nothing,  I  mean,  that  is  satisfying. 
4  Tout  lasse, — tout  casse, — tout  passe  ! '  A  true  record ; 
but  isn't  it  sorrowful  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  it  need  be  true,"  said  Esther. 

"  It  is  not  true  with  you  ?  " 

"  No,  certainly  not." 

"  Your  smile  says  more  than  your  words.  What 
a  smile !  My  dear,  I  envy  you.  And  yet  I  do 
not.  You  have  got  to  wake  up  from  all  that.  You 
are  seventeen,  eighteen, — nineteen,  is  it  ? — and  you 
have  not  found  out  yet  that  the  world  is  hollow 
and  your  doll  stuffed  with  sawdust." 

"  But  the  world  is  not  all." 

44  Isn't  it?     What  is?" 

"  The  Lord  said,  '  He  that  believeth  on  me  hath 
everlasting  life.' " 

"  Everlasting  life !  In  the  next  world !  0  yes, 
my  dear;  but  I  was  speaking  of  life  now" 


514  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Does  not  everlasting  life  begin  now?  "  said  Es 
ther,  with  another  of  those  rare  smiles.  They  were 
so  rare  and  so  beautiful  that  Betty  had  come  to 
watch  for  them.  Arch,  bright,  above  all  happy, 
and  full  of  a  kind  of  loving  power.  "  The  Lord 
said  ' hath';  he  did  not  say  '  will  have/  "  , 

"  Miss  Gainsborough,  you  talk  riddles." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Esther;  "  I  do  not  mean  to  do 
that.  I  am  speaking  the  simplest  truth.  We  were 
made  to  be  happy  in  the  love  of  God ;  and  as  we 
were  made  for  that,  nothing  less  will  do." 

"Are  you  happy?  My  dear,  I  need  not  ask; 
your  face  speaks  for  you.  I  believe  that  pricked 
me  on  to  ask  the  question  with  which  we  began,  in 
pure  envy.  I  see  you  are  happy.  But  confess  hon 
estly  now, — honestly, — and  quite  between  ourselves, 
confess  there  is  some  delightful  lover  somewhere, 
who  provokes  those  smiles,  with  which  no  doubt 
you  reward  him  ?  " 

Esther's  grey  eyes  opened  unmistakeably  at  her 
hostess  while  she  was  speaking,  and  then  a  light 
colour  rose  on  her  cheek,  and  then  she  laughed. 

"I  neither  have,  nor  ever  expect  to  have,  any 
thing  of  the  kind,"  she  said.  And  then  she  was  no 
longer  to  be  detained,  but  took  leave  and  went 
away. 

"  She  is  a  little  too  certain  about  the  lover,"  re 
marked  Miss  Frere.  "  That  looks  as  if  there  were 
already  one,  in  petto." 

"  She  is  poor,"  said  Mrs.  Chatsworth.  "  She  has 
not  much  chance.  I  believe  she  supports  herself 


SKIRMISHING.  515 

and  her  father, — he  is  old  or  invalid  or  something, 
— by  teaching;  perhaps  they  have  a  little  some 
thing  to  help  her  out.  But  I  fancy  she  sees  very 
little  society.  I  never  meet  her  anywhere.  The 
lady  in  whose  house  she  was  educated  is  a  very 
warm  friend  of  hers,  and  she  introduced  her  to  me. 
So  I  get  her  to  come  here  sometimes  for  a  little 
change." 

Betty  went  home  with  a  great  many  thoughts  in 
her  mind,  which  kept  her  half  the  night  awake. 
Jealousy  perhaps  pricked  her  the  most.  Not  that 
Pitt  loved  this  girl ;  about  that  Betty  was  not  sure ; 
but  how  he  would  love  her  if  he  could  see  her! 
How  anybody  would,  especially  a  man  of  refined 
nature  and  truth  of  character,  who  requires  the 
same  in  those  connected  with  him.  What  a  pure 
creature  this  was !  and  then,  she  was  not  only  ten 
der  but  strong.  The  look  on  her  face,  the  lines  of 
her  lips,  told  surely  of  self-control,  self-denial,  and 
habitual  patience.  People  do  not  look  so,  who 
have  all  they  need  of  this  world's  goods  and  have 
always  dipped  their  hands  into  full  money  bags. 
No,  Esther  had  something  to  bear,  and  something 
to  do,  both  of  which  called  for  and  called  out  that 
strength  and  sweetness;  and  yet  she  was  so  happy! 
Happy  after  Pitt's  fashion.  And  this  was  the  girl 
he  had  been  looking  to  find.  Betty  could  deserve 
well  of  him  by  letting  him  know  where  to  find  her! 
But  then — all  would  be  lost,  and  Betty's  life  a  fail 
ure  indeed.  She  could  not  face  it.  And  besides, 
as  things  were,  they  were  quite  safe  for  the  other 


516  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

two.  The  childish  friendship  iiad  faded  out ;  would 
start  up  again  no  doubt  if  it  had  a  chance;  but 
there  was  no  need  that  it  should.  Pitt  was  at 
least  heart-whole,  if  not  memory-free;  and  as  for 
Esther,  she  had  just  declared  a  lover  to  be  a  pos 
sibility  nowhere  within  the  range  of  her  horizon. 
Esther  would  not  lose  anything  by  not  seeing  Pitt 
any  more.  But  then — would  she  lose  nothing?  The 
girl  teaching  to  support  herself  and  her  father, 
alone  and  poor,  what  would  it  be  to  her  life  if 
Pitt  suddenly  came  into  it,  with  his  strong  hand 
and  genial  temper  and  plenty  of  means?  What 
would  it  be  to  Betty's  life,  if  he  went  out  of  it? 
She  turned  and  tossed,  she  battled  and  struggled 
with  thoughts;  but  the  end  was,  she  went  on  to 
Washington  without  ever  paying  Esther  a  visit 
or  letting  her  know  that  her  old  friend  was  look 
ing  for  her. 


CHAPTER  XL. 
LONDON. 

THE  winter  passed.    In  the  spring  Betty  received 
a  letter  from  Mrs.  Dallas,  part  of  which  ran 
as  follows. 

"My  husband  and  I  have  a  new  plan  on  foot; 
we  have  been  meditating  it  all  winter,  so  it  ought 
to  be  ripe  now.  We  are  going  over  to  spend  the 
summer  in  England.  My  son  talked  of  making  us 
a  visit  again  this  year ;  and  we  decided  it  was  bet 
ter  we  should  go  to  him.  Time  is  nothing  to  us, 
and  to  him  it  is  something;  for  although  he  will 
have  no  need  to  practise  in  any  profession,  I  agree 
with  him  and  Mr.  Dallas  in  thinking  that  it  is  good 
a  young  man  should  have  a  profession ;  and  at  any 
rate,  what  has  been  begun  had  better  be  finished. 
So,  some  time  in  May  we  think  to  leave  Seaforth, 
on  our  way  to  London.  Dear  Betty,  will  you  take 
pity  on  an  old  woman  and  go  along,  to  give  us  the 
brightness  of  your  youth  ?  Don't  you  want  to  see 
London?  and  I  presume  by  this  time  Pitt  has  qual 
ified  himself  to  be  a  good  cicerone.  Besides,  we 
shall  not  be  fixed  in  London.  We  will  go  to  see 

'517) 


518  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

whatever  you  would  most  like  to  see  in  the  king 
dom  ;  perhaps  run  up  to  Scotland.  Of  course  what 
/want  to  see  is  my  boy;  but  other  things  would 
naturally  have  an  attraction  for  you.  Do  not  say 
no;  it  would  be  a  great  disappointment  to  me. 
Meet  us  in  New  York  about  the  middle  of  May. 
Mr.  Dallas  wishes  to  go  as  soon  as  the  spring 
storms  are  over.  I  have  another  reason  for  mak 
ing  this  journey;  I  wish  to  keep  Pitt  from  coming 
over  to  America." 

Betty's  heart  made  a  bound,  as  she  read  this  let 
ter,  and  went  on  with  faster  beats  than  usual  after 
she  had  folded  it  up.  A  voyage,  and  London,  and 
Pitt  Dallas  for  a  showman  !  What  could  be  more 
alluring  in  its  temptation  and  promise?  Going 
about  in  London  with  him  to  guide  and  explain 
things — could  opportunity  be  more  favourable  to 
finish  the  work  which  last  summer  left  undone? 
Betty's  heart  jumped  at  it;  she  knew  she  would 
say  yes  to  Mrs.  Dallas;  she  could  say  nothing  but 
yes;  and  yet,  questions  did  come  up  to  her.  Would 
it  not  be  putting  herself  unduly  forward?  would 
it  not  look  as  though  she  went  on  purpose  to  see 
— not  London  but  somebody  in  London  ?  That 
would  be  the  very  truth,  Betty  confessed  to  her 
self  with  a  pang  of  shame  and  humiliation;  the 
pang  was  keen;  yet  it  did  not  change  her  reso 
lution.  What  if?  Nobody  knew,  she  argued,  and 
nobody  would  have  cause  to  suspect.  There  was 
reason  enough,  ostensible,  why  she  should  go  to 
England  with  Mrs.  Dallas;  if  she  refused  to  visit 


LONDON.  519 

all  the  old  ladies  who  had  sons,  her  social  limits 
would  be  restricted  indeed.  But  Mrs.  Dallas  her 
self?  would  not  she  understand?  Mrs.  Dallas  un 
derstood  enough  already,  Betty  said  to  herself 
defiantly;  they  were  allies  in  this  cause.  It  was 
very  miserable  that  it  should  be  so ;  however,  not 
now  to  be  undone  or  set  aside.  Lightly  she  had 
gone  into  Mrs.  Dallas's  proposition  last  summer;  if 
it  had  grown  to  be  life  and  death  earnest  with  her, 
there  was  no  need  Mrs.  Dallas  should  know  that. 
It  ivas  life  and  death  earnest;  and  she  must  go  to 
London.  It  was  a  capital  plan.  To  have  met  Pitt 
Dallas  again  at  Seaforth  and  again  spent  weeks  in 
his  mother's  house  while  he  was  there,  would  have 
been  too  obvious ;  this  was  better  every  way.  Of 
course  she  could  not  refuse  such  an  invitation; 
such  a  chance  of  seeing  something  of  the  world; 
she  who  had  always  been  too  poor  to  travel.  Pitt 
could  not  find  any  matter  of  surprise  nor  any 
ground  for  criticism  in  her  doing  that.  And  it 
would  give  her  all  the  opportunity  she  wished  for. 

Here,  most  inopportunely,  came  before  her  the 
image  of  Esther.  How  those  two  would  suit  each 
other.  How  infallibly  Pitt  would  be  devoted  to 
her  if  he  could  see  her.  But  Betty  said  to  herself 
that  she  had  a  better  right.  They  did  not  know 
each  other;  he  was  nothing  to  Esther,  Esther  was 
nothing  to  him.  She  set  her  teeth,  and  wrote  to 
Mrs.  Dallas  that  she  would  be  delighted  to  go. 

And  then,  having  made  her  choice,  she  put  away 
thought.  All  through  the  voyage  she  was  a  most 


520  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

delightful  companion.  A  little  stifled  excitement, 
like  forcing  heat  in  a  greenhouse,  made  all  her 
social  qualities  blossom  out  in  unwonted  brilliancy. 
She  was  entertaining,  bright,  gay,  witty,  graceful ; 
she  was  the  admiration  and  delight  of  the  whole" 
company  on  board;  and  Mrs.  Dallas  thought  to 
herself  with  proud  satisfaction,  that  Pitt  could  find 
nothing  better  than  that,  nor  more  attractive ;  and 
that  she  need  wish  nothing  better  than  that  at  the 
head  of  her  son's  household  and  by  his  side.  That 
Pitt  could  withstand  such  enchantment  was  impos 
sible.  She  was  doing  the  very  best  thing  she  could 
do,  in  coming  to  England  and  in  bringing  Betty 
with  her. 

Having  meditated  this  journey  for  months,  Mr. 
Dallas  had  made  all  his  preparations.  Eooms  had 
been  engaged  in  a  pleasant  part  of  the  city;  and 
there  very  soon  after  landing  the  little  party  found 
themselves  comfortably  established  and  quite  at 
home. 

"  Nothing  like  England !  "  Mr.  Dallas  grumbled 
with  satisfaction.  "  You  couldn't  do  this  in  New 
York ;  they  understand  nothing  about  it,  and  they 
are  too  stupid  to  learn.  I  believe  there  isn't  a  lodg 
ing  house  in  all  the  little  Dutch  city  over  there; 
you  could  not  find  a  single  house  where  they  let 
lodgings  in  the  English  fashion." 

"Mr.  Dallas,  it  is  not  a  Dutch  city ! " 

"  Half  Dutch,  and  that's  enough.  Have  you  let 
Pitt  know  we  are  here,  wife  ?  " 

Mrs.   Dallas   had   done   that;   but  the   evening 


LONDON.  521 

passed  away  nevertheless  without  any  news  of 
him.  They  made  themselves  very  comfortable; 
had  an  excellent  dinner,  and  went  to  rest  in  rooms 
pleasant  and  well-appointed;  but  Betty  was  in  a 
state  of  feverish  excitement  which  would  not  let 
her  be  a  moment  at  ease.  Now  she  was  here,  she 
almost  was  ready  to  wish  herself  back  again.  How 
would  Pitt  look  at  her ;  how  would  he  receive  her  ? 
and  yet,  what  affair  was  it  of  his,  if  his  mother 
brought  a  young  friend  with  her,  to  enjoy  the 
journey  and  make  it  agreeable  ?  It  was  nothing 
to  Pitt ;  and  yet,  if  it  were  nothing  to  him,  Betty 
would  want  to  take  passage  in  the  next  packet 
ship  sailing  for  New  York  or  Boston.  She  drew  her 
breath  short,  until  she  could  see  him. 

He  came  about  the  middle  of  the  next  morning. 
Mr.  Dallas  had  gone  out,  and  the  two  ladies  were 
alone,  in  a  high  state  of  expectancy ;  joyous  on  one 
part,  most  anxious  and  painful  on  the  other.  The 
first  sight  of  him  calmed  Betty's  heart-beating;  at 
the  same  time  it  gave  her  a  great  thrill  of  pain. 
Pitt  was  himself  so  frank  and  so  quiet,  she  said  to 
herself  there  was  no  occasion  for  her  to  fear  any 
thing  in  his  thoughts;  his  greeting  of  her  was 
entirely  cordial  and  friendly.  He  was  neither  sur 
prised  nor  displeased  to  see  her.  At  the  same 
time,  while  this  was  certainly  comforting,  Pitt 
looked  too  composedly  happy  for  Betty's  peace  of 
mind.  Apparently  he  needed  neither  her  nor  any 
body; — "do  men  ever?"  said  Betty  to  herself  bit 
terly.  And  besides,  there  was  in  his  face  and 


522  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

manner  a  nobleness  and  a  pureness  which  at  one 
blow  drove  home  as  it  were  the  impressions  of  the 
last  year.  Such  a  look  she  had  never  seen  on  any 
face  in  her  life;  except — yes,  there  was  one  excep 
tion,  and  the  thought  sent  another  pang  of  pain 
through  her.  But  women  do  riot  shew  what  they 
feel;  and  Pitt,  if  he  noticed  Miss  Frere  at  all,  saw 
nothing  but  the  well-bred  quiet  which  always  be 
longed  to  Betty's  demeanour.  He  was  busy  with 
his  mother. 

"  This  is  a  pleasure,  to  have  you  here  I "  he  was 
saying  heartily. 

"  I  thought  we  should  have  seen  you  last  night. 
My  letter  was  in  time.  Didn't  you  get  it  ?  " 

"It  went  to  my  chambers  in  the  Temple;  and  I 
was  not  there." 

"  Where  were  you  ?  " 

"At  Kensington." 

"  At  Kensington  !     With  Mr.  Strahan." 

"  Not  with  Mr.  Strahan,"  saift  Pitt  gravely.  "  1 
have  been  with  him  a  great  deal  these  last  weeks. 
You  got  my  letter  in  which  I  told  you  he  was  ill  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  that  you  were  nursing  him." 

"  Then  you  did  not  get  my  letter  telling  of  the 
end  of  his  illness?  You  left  home  before  it  ar 
rived." 

"  You  do  not  mean  that  uncle  Strahan  is  dead?  " 

"  It  is  a  month  ago,  and  more.  But  there  is  noth 
ing  to  regret,  mother.  He  died  perfectly  happy." 

Mrs.  Dallas  passed  over  this  sentence,  which  she 
did  not  like,  and  asked  abruptly, 


LONDON.  523 

"  Then  what  were  you  doing  at  Kensington  ?  " 

"  There  was  business.  I  have  been  obliged  to 
give  some  time  to  it.  You  will  be  as  much  sur 
prised  as  I  was,  to  learn  that  my  old  uncle  has  left 
all  he  had  in  the  world  to  me." 

" To  you!  " — Mrs.  Dallas  did  not  utter  a  scream  of 
delight,  or  embrace  her  son,  or  do  anything  that 
many  women  would  have  done  in  honour  of  the 
occasion ;  but  her  head  took  a  little  loftier  set  upon 
her  shoulders,  and  in  her  cheeks  rose  a  very  pretty 
rosy  flush. 

"  I  am  not  surprised  in  the  least,"  she  said.  "  I 
do  not  see  how  he  could  have  done  anything  else; 
but  I  did  not  know  the  old  gentleman  had  so  much 
sense,  for  all  that.  Is  the  property  large  ?  " 

"  Rather  large." 

"  My  dear,  I  am  very  glad.  That  makes  you  in 
dependent  at  once.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  ought 
to  be  glad  of  that ;  but  you  would  never  be  led  off 
from  any  line  of  conduct  you  thought  fit  to  enter, 
by  either  having  or  wanting  money." 

"I  hope  not.  It  is  not  high  praise  to  say  that  I 
am  not  mercenary.  Who  was  thinking  to  bribe 
me  ?  and  to  what  ?  " 

"Never  mind,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas  hastily.  "Was 
not  the  house  at  Kensington  part  of  the  property  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  And  has  that  come  to  you  too  ?  " 

"Yes,  of  course;  just  as  it  stood.  I  was  going 
to  ask  if  you  would  not  move  in  and  take  pos 
session  ?  " 


524  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Take  possession ! — we  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother;  it  is  all  ready.  The  old  servants 
.  are  there,  and  will  take  very  passably  good  care  of 
you.  Mrs.  Bunce  can  cook  a  chop,  and  boil  an 
egg,  and  make  a  piece  of  toast;  let  me  see,  what 
else  can  she  do  ? — Everything  that  my  old  uncle 
liked,  I  know;  beyond  that,  I  cannot  say  how  far 
her  power  extends.  But  1  think  she  can  make  you 
comfortable." 

"  My  dear,  aren't  you  going  to  let  the  house  ?  " 

"  No,  mother." 

"  Why  not  ?  You  cannot  live  in  chambers  and 
there  too  ?  " 

"  I  can  never  let  the  house.  In  the  first  place, 
it  is  too  full  of  things  which  have  all  of  them  more 
or  less  value,  many  of  them  more.  In  the  second 
place,  the  old  servants  have  their  home  there,  and 
will  always  have  it." 

"  You  are  bound  by  the  will  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.     The  will  binds  me  to  nothing." 

"Then,  my  dear  boy  ! — it  may  be  along  time  be 
fore  you  would  want  to  set  up  housekeeping  there 
yourself;  you  might  never  wish  it;  and  in  the  mean 
time  all  this  expense  going  on  ? — " 

"  I  know  what  uncle  Strahan  would  have  liked, 
mamma;  but  apart  from  that,  I  could  never  turn 
adrift  his  old  servants.  They  are  devoted  to  me 
now;  and  besides,  I  wish  to  have  the  house  taken 
care  of.  When  you  have  seen  it,  you  will  not  talk 
any  more  about  having  it  let.  You  will  come  at 
once,  will  you  not  ?  It  is  better  than  this.  I  told 


LONDON.  525 

Mrs.  Bunce  she  might  make  ready  for  yon;  and 
there  is  a  special  room  for  Miss  Frere,  where  she 
may  study  several  things." 

He  gave  a  pleasant  glance  at  the  young  lady  as 
he  spoke,  which  certainly  assured  her  of  a  welcome. 
But  Betty  felt  painfully  embarrassed. 

"  This  is  something  we  never  contemplated,"  she 
said,  turning  to  Mrs.  Dallas.  "  What  will  you  do 
with  me  ?  /  have  no  right  to  Mr.  Pitt's  hospitality, 
generous  as  it  is." 

"You  will  come  with  us,  of  course,"  said  Mrs. 
Dallas.  "  You  are  one  of  us,  as  much  as  anybody 
could  be." 

"  And  you  would  be  very  sorry  afterwards  if  you 
did  not,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Pitt  frankly.  "  My 
old  house  is  quite  something  to  see;  and  I  promise 
myself  some  pleasure  in  the  enjoyment  you  all  will 
have  in  it.  I  hope  we  are  so  much  old  friends  that 
you  would  not  refuse  me  such  an  honour  ?  " 

There  was  no  more  to  say,  after  the  manner  in 
which  this  was  spoken ;  and  from  embarrassment 
Betty  went  over -to  great  exultation.  "  What  could 
be  better  than  this  ?  and  did  even  her  dreams  offer 
her  such  a  bewildering  prospect  of  pleasure.  She 
heard  with  but  half  an  ear  what  Pitt  and  his  mo 
ther  were  saying;  yet  she  did  hear  it,  and  lost  not 
a  word,  braiding  in  her  own  reflections  diligently 
with  the  thoughts  thus  suggested.  They  talked 
of  Mr.  Strahan,  of  his  illness,  through  which  Pitt 
had  nursed  him;  of  the  studies  thus  interrupted;  of 
the  property  thus  suddenly  come  into  Pitt's  hands. 


526  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

. "  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  go  on  with  your  law 
reading,"  Mrs.  Dallas  broke  out  at  last.  "  Really, — 
why  should  you  ?  You  are  perfectly  independent 
already,  without  any  help  from  your  father;  house 
and  servants  and  all;  and  money  enough ;  your  fa 
ther  would  say,  too  much.  Haven't  you  thought  of 
giving  up  your  chambers  in  the  Temple  ?" 

"No,  mother." 

"Any  other  young  man  would.  Why  not  you? 
What  do  you  want  to  study  law  for  any  more  ?  " 

"  One  must  do  something,  you  know." 

"  Something — but  I  never  heard  that  law  was  an 
amusing  study.  Is  it  not  the  driest  of  the  dry  ?  " 

"Rather  dry — in  spots." 

"  What  is  your  notion,  then,  Pitt  ? — if  you  do  not 
like  it." 

"  I  do  like  it.  And  I  am  thinking  of  the  use  it 
may  be." 

"  The  use  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Dallas  bewilderedly. 

"It  is  a  grand  profession,"  he  went  on;  "a  grand 
profession,  when  used  for  its  legitimate  purposes ! 
I  want  to  have  the  command  of  it.  If  the  study  is 
sometimes  dry,  the  practice  is  often,  or  it  often 
may  be,  in  the  highest  degree  interesting." 

"Purposes!  What  purposes?"  Mrs.  Dallas  pur 
sued,  fastening  on  that  one  word  in  Pitt's  speech. 

"  Righting  the  wrong,  mother,  and  lifting  up  the 
oppressed.  A  knowledge  of  law  is  necessary  often 
for  that;  and  the  practice  too." 

"  Pitt,"  said  his  mother,  "  I  don't  understand 
you." 


LONDON.  527 

Betty  thought  slie  did,  and  she  was  glad  that  Mr. 
Dallas's  entrance  broke  off  the  conversation.  Then 
it  was  all  gone  over  again,  Mr.  Strahan's  illness,  Pitt's 
ministrations,  the  will,  the  property,  the  house;  con 
cluding  with  the  plan  of  removing  thither.  Betty, 
saying  nothing  herself,  watched  the  other  members 
of  the  party;  the  gleam  in  Mr.  Dallas's  money-lov 
ing  eyes,  the  contained  satisfaction  of  Mrs.  Dallas's 
motherly  pride,  and  the  extremely  different  look  on 
the  younger  man's  face.  With  all  the  brightness 
and  life  of  his  talk  to  them,  with  all  the  interest 
and  pleasure  he  shewed  in  the  things  talked  about, 
there  was  a  quiet  apartness  on  his  brow  and  in  his 
eyes,  a  lift  above  trifles,  a  sweetness  and  a  gravity 
that  certainly  found  their  aliment  neither  in  the 
sudden  advent  of  a  fortune  nor  in  any  of  the  acces 
sories  of  money.  Betty  saw  and  read,  while  the 
others  were  talking;  and  her  outward  calm  and 
careless  demeanour  was  no  true  indication  of  how 
she  felt.  The  very  things  which  drew  her  to  Pitt, 
alas,  made  her  feel  set  away  at  a  distance  from 
him.  What  had  her  restless  soul  in  common  with 
that  happy  repose  that  was  about  him  ?  And  yet, 
how  restlessness  is  attracted  by  rest !  Of  all  things 
it  seemed  to  Betty  one  of  the  most  delightful  and 
desirable.  Not  to  be  fretted,  not  to  be  anxious;  to 
be  never  "out  of  sorts,"  never,  seemingly,  discon 
tented  with  anything  or  afraid  of  anything !  While 
these  terms  were  the  very  reverse  of  all  which  must 
describe  her  and  every  one  else  whom  she  knew. 
Where  did  that  high  calm  come  from  ?  No  face 


528  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

that  Betty  had  ever  seen  had  that  look  upon  it; 

except 

0  she  wished  she  had  never  seen  that  other, 
or  that  she  could  forget  it.  Those  two  fitted  to 
gether.  "  But  I  should  make  him  just  as  good  a 
wife,"  said  Betty  to  herself;  "perhaps  better.  And 
she  does' not  care;  and  I  do.  0  what  a  fool  I  was 
ever  to  go  into  this  thing  !  " 


CHAPTER  XLI. 
AN  OLD  HOUSE. 

ARRANGEMENTS  were  soon  made.  The  land, 
lady  of  the  house  was  contented  with  a  hand- 
Bome  bonus;  baggage  was  sent  off;  a  carriage  was 
ordered,  and  the  party  set  forth. 

It  was  a  very  strange  experience  to  Betty.  If 
her  position  was  felt  to  be  a  little  awkward,  at  the 
same  time  it  was  most  deliciously  adventurous  and 
novel.  She  sat  demurely  enough  by  Mrs.  Dallas's 
side,  eyeing  the  strange  streets  through  which  they 
passed,  hearing  every  word  that  was  spoken  by  any 
body,  and  keeping  the  while  herself  an  extremely 
smooth  and  careless  exterior.  She  was  full  of  in 
terest  for  all  she  saw,  and  yet  the  girl  saw  it  as  in 
a  dream,  or  only  as  a  background  upon  which  she 
saw  Pitt.  She  saw  him  always,  without  often  seem 
ing  to  look  at  him.  The  content  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dallas  was  inexpressible. 

"  Where  will  you  find  anything  like  that,  now  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Dallas  as  they  were  passing  Hyde  Park. 
"Ah,  Miss  Betty,  wait;  you  will  never  want  to  see 
Washington  again.  The  Capitol?  Pooh,  pooh!  it 
may  do  for  a  little  beginning  of  a  colony;  but  wait 

C529) 


530  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

till  you  have  seen  a  few  things  here.  What  will 
you  shew  her  first,  Pitt  ?  " 

"  Kensington." 

"  Kensington  !  Ah,  to  be  sure.  Well,  I  suppose 
your  new  house  takes  precedence  of  all  other  things 
for  the  present." 

"  Not  my  new  house,"  said  Pitt.  "  It  is  anything 
but  that.  There  is  nothing  new  about  it  but  the 
master.  I  thought  I  should  bring  you  back  with 
me,  mother;  so  I  told  Mrs.  Bunce  to  have  luncheon 
ready.  As  I  said,  she  can  cook  a  chop." 

By  degrees  the  houses  became  thinner,  as  they 
drove  on;  grass  and  trees  were  again  prominent; 
and  it  was  in  a  region  that  looked  at  least  half  country 
that  the  carriage  at  last  stopped.  Indeed  more  than 
half  country,  for  the  city  was  certainly  left  behind. 
Everything  was  in  fresh  green;  the  air  was  mild 
and  delicious ;  the  place  quiet.  The  carriage  turned 
from  the  road  and  passed  through  an  iron  gateway 
and  up  a  gravel  sweep  to  the  door  of  an  old  house, 
shaded  by  old  trees  and  surrounded  by  a  spread  of 
velvety  tur£  The  impression,  as  Betty  descended 
from  the  carriage,  was  that  here  had  been  ages  of 
dignified  order  and  grave  tranquillity.  The  green 
sward  was  even  and  soft  and  of  vivid  freshness; 
the  old  trees  were  stately  with  their  length  of  limb 
and  great  solid  trunks;  and  the  house? — 

The  house,  towards  which  she  turned  as  if  to  ask 
questions  of  it,  was  of  moderate  size,  built  of  stone, 
and  so  massively  built  as  if  it  had  been  meant  to 
stand  forever.  That  was  seen  at  once  in  the  thick- 


AN  OLD  HOUSE.  531 

ness  of  the  walls,  the  strong  oaken  doorway,  and 
the  heavy  window  frames.  But  as  soon  as  Betty 
set  foot  within  the  door  she  could  almost  have 
screamed  with  delight. 

"  Upon  my  word,  very  good !  very  well ! "  said 
Mr.  Dallas,  standing  in  the  hall  and  reviewing  it. 
And  then,  perceiving  the  presence  of  the  servants 
he  checked  himself  and  reviewed  them. 

"These  are  my  uncle's  faithful  old  friends,  mother," 
Pitt  was  saying;  "Mrs.  Bunce,  and  Stephen  Hill. 
Have  you  got  something  ready  for  travellers,  Mrs. 
Bunce?" 

Dignified  order  and  grave  tranquillity  was  the 
impression  on  Betty's  mind  again,  as  they  were 
ushered  into  the  dining  room.  It  was  late,  and  the 
party  sat  down  at  once  to  table. 

But  Betty  could  hardly  eat,  for  feasting  her  eyes. 
And  when  they  went  up  stairs  to  their  rooms  that 
feast  still  continued.  The  house  was  irregular, 
with  rather  small  rooms  and  low  ceilings;  which 
itself  was  pleasant  after  the  more  commonplace 
regularity  to  which  Miss  Frere  had  been  accustomed ; 
and  then  it  was  full,  all  the  rooms  were  full,  of 
quaintness  and  beauty.  Oak  wainscottings,  dark 
with  time ;  oaken  doorways  with  singular  carvings ; 
chimney  pieces,  before  which  Betty  stood  in  speech 
less  delight  and  admiration;  small-paned  windows 
set  in  deep  window  niches;  in  one  or  two  rooms 
dark  draperies;  but  the  late  Mr.  Strahan  had  not 
favoured  anything  that  shut  out  the  light,  and  in 
most  of  the  house  there  were  no  curtains  put  up. 


532  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

And  then,  on  the  walls,  in  cupboards  and  presses, 
on  tables  and  shelves,  and  in  cabinets,  there  was 
an  endless  variety  and  wealth  of  treasures  and  cu 
riosities.  Pictures,  bronzes,  coins,  old  armour,  old 
weapons,  curiosities  of  historical  value,  others  of 
natural  production,  others  still  of  art;  some  of  all 
these  were  very  valuable  and  precious.  To  ex 
amine  them  must  be  the  work  of  many  days;  it 
was  merely  the  fact  of  their  being  there  which 
Betty  took  in  now,  with  a  sense  of  the  great  riches 
of  the  new  mental  pasture  ground  in  which  she 
found  herself.  She  changed  her  dress  in  a  kind 
of  breathless  mood ;  noticing  as  she  did  so  the  old- 
fashioned  and  aged  furniture  of  her  room.  Aged, 
not  infirm;  the  manufacture  solid  and  strong  as 
ever;  the  wood  darkened  by  time,  the  patterns 
quaint,  but  to  Betty's  eye  the  more  picturesque. 
Her  apartment  was  a  corner  room,  with  one  deep 
window  on  each  of  two  sides;  the  look-out  over 
a  sunny  landscape  of  grass,  trees,  and  scattered 
buildings.  On  another  side  was  a  deep  chimney 
place,  with  curious  wrought  iron  fire  dogs.  What 
a  delightful  adventure, — or  what  a  terrible  adven 
ture, — was  it,  which  had  brought  her  to  this  house! 
She  would  not  think  of  that;  she  dressed  and  went 
down. 

The  rest  of  the  party  were  gathered  in  the  li 
brary,  and  this  room  finished  Betty's  enchantment. 
It  was  a  well  sized  room,  the  largest  in  the  house, 
on  the  second  floor;  and  all  the  properties  that 
made  the  house  generally  interesting  were  gathered 


AN  OLD  HOUSE.  533 

and  culminated  here.  Darkwainscotting,  dark  book 
cases,  and  dark  books,  gave  it  an  aspect  that  might 
have  been  gloomy,  yet  was  not  so.  Perhaps  be 
cause  of  the  many  other  objects  in  the  room  which 
gave  points  of  light  or  bits  of  colour.  What  they 
were,  Betty  could  only  find  out  by  degrees;  she 
saw  at  once,  in  general,  that  this  must  have  been 
a  favourite  place  of  the  late  owner,  and  that  here 
he  had  collected  a  special  assemblage  of  the  things 
that  pleased  him  best.  A  table  at  one  side  must 
have  been  made,  she  thought,  about  the  same  time 
with  her  chamber  furniture  and  by  the  same  hand. 
The  floor  was  dark  and  polished,  and  on  it  lay  here 
and  there  bits  of  soft  carpeting  which  were  well 
worn.  Betty  advanced  slowly  to  the  corner  where 
the  party  were  sitting,  taking  in  the  effect  of  all 
this;  then  almost  started  as  Pitt  gave  her  a  chair, 
to  see  in  the  corner  just  beyond  the  group  a  stuffed 
bear  shewing  his  teeth  at  her. 

The  father  and  mother  had  been  talking  about 
various  matters  at  home,  and  the  talk  went  on. 
Betty  presently  left  them  and  began  to  examine 
the  sides  of  the  room.  She  studied  the  bear,  which 
was  in  an  upright  position,  resting  one  paw  on  a 
stick,  while  the  other  supported  a  lamp.  From  the 
bear  her  eyes  passed  on  to  a  fire  screen  which  stood 
before  the  empty  chimney,  and  then  she  went  to 
look  at  it  nearer  by.  It  was  a  most  exquisite 
thing.  Two  great  panes  of  plate  glass  were  so  set 
in  a  frame  that  a  space  of  some  three  or  four  inches 
separated  them.  In  this  space,  in  every  variety  of 


534  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

position,  were  suspended  on  invisible  wires  some 
twenty  bumming  birds,  of  different  kinds;  and 
whether  tbe  light  fell  upon  this  screen  in  front  or 
came  through  it  from  behind,  the  display  was  in 
either  case  most  beautiful  and  novel.  Betty  at 
last  wandered  to  the  chimney  piece,  and  went  no 
further  for  a  good  while;  studying  the  rich  carving 
and  the  coat  of  arms  which  was  both  sculptured 
and  painted  in  the  midst  of  it.  By  and  by  she 
found  that  Pitt  was  beside  her. 

"  Mr.  Strahan's  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No;  they  belonged  to  a  former  possessor  of  the 
house.  It  came  into  my  uncle's  family  by  the  mar 
riage  of  his  father." 

"It  is  very  old?" 

"Pretty  old;  that  is,  what  in  America  we  would 
call  so.  It  reaches  back  to  the  time  of  the  Stuarts. 
Eeally  that  is  not  so  long  ago  as  it  seems." 

"  It  is  worth  while  to  be  old,  if  it  gives  one  such 
a  chimney  piece  as  that.  But  I  should  not  like  an 
other  man's  arms  in  it,  if  I  were  you." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  don't  know — I  believe  it  diminishes  the  sense 
of  possession." 

"  A  good  thing,  then,"  said  Pitt.  "  Do  you  re 
member,  that  '  they  that  have '  are  told  to  be  '  as 
though  they  possessed  not'?" 

"  How'  can  they  ?  "  answered  Betty,  looking  at 
him. 

"  You  know  the  words  ?  " 

"  I  seem  to  have  read  them — I  suppose  I  have." 


AN  OLD   HOUSE.  535 

"  Then  there  must  be  some  way  of  making  them 
true." 

"  What  is  this  concern,  Pitt  ?  "  inquired  his  father, 
who  had  followed  them  and  was  looking  at  a  sort 
of  cabinet  which  was  framed  into  the  wall. 

"  I  was  going  to  invite  Miss  Frere's  attention  to 
it;  yet  on  reflection,  I  believe  she  is  not  enthusiastic 
for  that  sort  of  thing.  That  is  valuable,  father. 
It  is  a  collection  of  early  Greek  coins.  Uncle  Stra- 
han  was  very  fond  of  that  collection,  and  very  proud 
of  it.  He  had  brought  it  together  with  a  great  deal 
of  pains." 

"  Rubbish,  I  should  say,"  observed  the  elder  man; 
and  he  moved  on,  while  Betty  took  his  place. 

"  Now  I  do  not  understand  them,"  she  said. 

"  You  can  see  the  beauty  of  some  of  them.  Look 
at  this  head  of  Apollo." 

"That  is  beautiful — exquisite!  Was  that  a 
common  coin  of  trade  ?  " 

"Doubtful,  in  this  case.  It  is  not  certain  that 
this  was  not  rather  a  medal  struck  for  the  members 
of  the  Amphictyonic  council.  But  see  this  coin  .of 
Syracuse;  this  was  a  common  coin  of  trade;  only  of 
a  size  not  the  most  common." 

"All  I  can  say,  is,  their  coinage  was  far  hand 
somer  than  ours;  if  it  was  like  that." 

"  The  reverse  is  as  fine  as  the  obverse.  A  chariot 
with  four  horses,  done  with  infinite  spirit." 

"  How  can  you  remember  what  is  on  the  other 
side — I  suppose  this  side  is  what  you  mean  by  the 
obverse — of  this  particular  coin  ?  Are  you  sure  V  " 


536  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Pitt  produced  a  key  from  his  pocket,  unlocked 
the  glass  door  of  the  cabinet,  and  took  the  coin 
from  its  bed.  On  the  other  side  was  what  he  had 
stated  to  be  there.  Betty  took  the  piece  in  her 
hands  to  look  and  admire. 

"  That  is  certainly  very  fine,"  she  said ;  but  her 
attention  was  not  entirely  bent  on  the  coin  "  Is 
this  lovely  head  meant  for  Apollo  too  ?  " 

"No;  don't  you  see  it  is  feminine?  Ceres,  it  is 
thought;  but  Mr.  Strahan  held  that  it  was  Arethusa; 
in  honor  of  the  Nymph  that  presided  over  the  fine 
fountain  of  sweet  water  near  Syracuse.  The  coinage 
of  that  city  was  extremely  beautiful  and  diversified; 
yielding  to  hardly  any  other  in  design  and  work 
manship.  Here  is  an  earlier  one;  you  see  the  very 
different  stage  art  had  attained  to." 

"A  regular  Greek  face,"  remarked  Betty,  going 
back  to  the  coin  she  held  in  her  hand.  "  See  the 
straight  line  of  the  nose,  and  the  very  short  upper 
lip.  Do  you  hold  that  the  Greek  type  is  the  only 
true  beauty  ?  " 

"  Not  I.  The  only  true  beauty,  I  think,  is  that  of 
the  soul;  or  at  least  that  which  the  soul  shines 
through." 

"What  are  these  little  fish  swimming  about  the 
head?  They  would  seem  to  indicate  a  marine 
deity." 

"The  dolphin;  the  Syracusan  emblem." 

"  I  wish  I  had  been  born  in  those  times ! "  said 
Betty.  And  the  wish  had  a  meaning  in  the  speak 
er's  mind,  which  the  hearer  could  not  divine. 


\ 

AN  OLD   HOUSE.  537 

"Why  lo  you  wish  that?"  asked  Pitt  smiling. 

"  I  suppose  the  principal  reason  is,  that  then  I 
should  not  have  been  born  in  this.  Everything  is 
dreadfully  prosy  in  our  age.  0  not  7?ere,  at  this 
moment,  but  this  is  a  fairy  tale  we  are  living 
through.  I  know  how  the  plain  world  will  look 
when  I  go  back  to  it," 

"At  present,"  said  Pitt,  taking  the  Syracusan 
coin  and  restoring  it  to  its  place,  "  you  are  not  an 
enthusiastic  numismatist !  " 

"No;  how  should  I?  Coins  are  not  a  thing  to 
excite  enthusiasm.  They  are  beautiful,  and  curious, 
but  not  exactly — not  exactly  stirring." 

"I  had  a  scholar  once,"  remarked  Pitt  as  he  locked 
the  glass  door  of  the  cabinet,  "  whose  eyes  would 
have  opened  very  wide  at  sight  of  this  collection. 
Have  you  heard  anything  of  the  Gainsboroughs, 
mother?" 

Betty  started,  inwardly,  and  was  seized  with  an 
unreasoning  fear  lest  the  question  might  next  bo 
put  to  herself.  Quietly,  as  soon  as  she  could,  she 
moved  away  from  the  coin  cabinet  and  seemed  to 
be  examining  something  else;  but  she  was  listening 
all  the  while. 

"  Nothing  whatever,"  Mrs.  Dallas  had  answered. 

"They  have  not  come  back  to  England.  I  have 
made  out  so  much.  I  looked  up  the  family  after 
I  came  home  last  fall;  their  head  quarters  is  at  a 
nice  old  place  down  in  Devonshire.  I  introduced 
myself,  and  got  acquainted  with  them.  They  are 
pleasant  people.  But  they  knew  nothing  of  the 


538  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

colonel.  He  has  not  come  home,  and  he  has  not 
written.  Thus  much  I  have  found  out." 

"  It  is  not  certain,  however,"  grumbled  Mr.  Dallas. 
"I  believe  he  has  come  home;  that  is,  to  England. 
He  was  on  bad  terms  with  his  people,  you  know." 

*4  When  are  you  going  to  shew  Miss  Frere  and 
me  London?"  asked  Mrs.  Dallas.  She  was  as 
willing  to  lead  off  from  the  other  subject  as  Betty 
herself. 

"  Shew  you  London,  mamma !  Shew  you  a  bit 
of  it,  you  mean.  It  would  take  something  like  a 
lifetime  to  shew  you  London.  What  bit  will  you 
begin  with  ?  " 

"  What  first,  Betty  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Dallas. 

Betty  turned  and  slowly  came  back  to  the  others. 

"Take  her  to  see  the -lions  in  the  Tower,"  sug 
gested  Mr.  Dallas.  "  And  the  wax- work." 

"  Do  you  think  I  have  never  seen  a  lion,  Mr. 
Dallas  ?  "  said  the  young  lady. 

"  Well, — small  ones,"  said  the  gentleman,  strok 
ing  his  chin.  "  Bat  the  Tower  is  a  big  lion  itself. 
I  believe  I  should  like  to  go  to  the  Tower.  I  have 
never  been  there  yet,  old  as  I  am." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  go  to  the  Tower,"  said  Mrs. 
Dallas.  "  I  do  not  care  for  that  kind  of  thing.  I 
should  like  to  see  the  Temple,  and  Pitt's  chambers." 

"  So  should  I,"  said  the  younger  lady. 

"You  might  do  worse,"  said  Pitt.  "Then  to 
morrow  we  will  go  to  the  Temple,  and  to  St.  Paul's." 

"  St.  Paul's  ?  that  will  not  hold  us  long,  will  it?  " 
said  Betty.  "  Is  it  so  much  to  see  ?  " 


AN  OLD   HOUSE.  539 

"  A  good  deal,  if  you  go  through  and  study  the 
monuments  !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Betty,  "  I  suppose  it  will  be  all  de 
lightful." 

But  when  she  had  retired  to  her  room  at  night 
her  mood  was  not  just  so.  She  sat  down  before 
her  glass  and  ruminated.  That  case  of  coins,  and 
Pitt's  old  scholar,  and  the  Gainsboroughs,  who  had 
not  come  home.  He  would  find  them  yet;  yes, 
and  Esther  would  one  day  be  standing  before  those 
coins ;  and  Pitt  would  be  shewing  them  to  her ;  and 
she,  she  would  enter  into  his  talk  about  them,  and 
would  understand  and  have  sympathy,  and  there 
would  be  sympathy  on  other  points  too.  If  Esther 
ever  stood  there,  in  that  beautiful  old  library,  it 
would  be  as  mistress  and  at  home.  Betty  had  a 
premonition  of  it;  she  put  her  hands  before  her 
eyes  to  shut  out  the  picture.  Suppose  she  earned 
well  of  the  two  and  gained  their  lasting  friendship 
by  saying  the  words  that  would  bring  them  to 
each  other?  That  was  one  way  out  of  her  diffi 
culty.  But  then,  why  should  she?  What  right 
had  Esther  Gainsborough  to  be  happy,  more  than 
Betty  Frere  ?  The  other  way  out  of  her  difficulty, 
namely,  to  win  Pitt's  liking,  would  be  much  better; 
and  then,  they  both  of  them  might  be  Esther's 
friends.  For  of  one  thing  Betty  was  certain;  if 
she  could  win  Pitt,  he  would  be  won.  No  half 
way  work  was  possible  with  him.  He  would  never 
woo  a  woman  he  did  not  entirely  love;  and  any 
woman  so  loved  by  him  would  not  need  to  fear  any 


540  A  RED   WALLFLOWER. 

other  woman ;  it  would  be  once  for  all.  Betty  had 
never,  as  it  happened,  met  thoroughgoing  truth 
before ;  she  recognized  it  and  trusted  it  perfectly 
in  Pitt;  and  it  was  one  of  the  things,  she  confessed 
to  herself,  that  drew  her  most  mightily  to  him.  A 
person  whom  she  could  absolutely  believe,  and  al 
ways  be  sure  of.  Whom  else  in  the  world  could 
she  trust  so  ?  Not  her  own  brothers ;  not  her  own 
father;  mother  she  had  none.  How  did  she  know 
so  securely  that  Pitt  was  an  exception  to  the 
universal  rule  ? — the  question  might  be  asked,  and 
she  asked  it.  She  had  not  seen  him  tested  in  any  great 
thing.  But  she  had  seen  him  tried  in  little  bits  of 
everyday  things,  in  which  most  people  think  it  is 
no  harm  to  dodge  the  truth  a  little;  arid  Betty 
recognized  the  soundness  of  the  axiom, — "  He  that 
is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  is  faithful  also  in 
much." 


CHAPTER  XLII. 
THE    TOWEK. 

THE  next  morning  they  went  to  inspect  the  Tem 
ple  ;  Pitt  and  the  two  ladies.  Mr.  Dallas  pre 
ferred  some  other  occupation.  But  the  interest 
brought  to  the  inspection  was  not  altogether  legit 
imate.  Mrs.  Dallas  cared  principally  to  see  how 
comfortable  her  son's  chambers  were,  and  to  refresh 
herself  with  the  token's  of  antiquity  and  importance 
which  attached  to  the  place  and  the  institution  to 
which  he  belonged.  Betty  was  no  antiquarian  in 
the  best  of  times;  and  at  present  had  all  her  faculties 
concentrated  on  one  subject  and  one  question  which 
was  not  of  the  past.  Nevertheless,  it  is  of  the  na 
ture  of  things,  that  a  high  strain  of  the  mind  ren 
ders  it  intensely  receptive  and  sensitive  for  outward 
impressions,  even  though  they  be  not  welcomed ; 
like  a  taut  string,  which  answers  to  a  breath  breathed 
upon  it.  Betty  did  not  care  for  the  Temple;  had 
no  interest  in  the  old  Templars'  arms  on  the  sides 
of  the  gateways;  and  thought  its  medley  of  dull 
courts  and  lanes  a  very  undesirable  place.  What 
was  it  to  her,  where  Dr.  Johnson  had  lived?  she 

(541) 


542  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

did  not  care  for  Dr.  Johnson  at  all,  and  as  little  for 
Oliver  Goldsmith.  Pitt,  she  saw,  cared;  how  odd 
it  was.  It  was  some  comfort  that  Mrs.  Dallas 
shared  her  indifference. 

•  "  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  do  not  care  about  any 
body's  lodgings  but  yours.  Dr.  Johnson  is  not 
there  now,  I  suppose.  Where  are  your  rooms  ?  " 

But  Pitt  laughed  and  took  them  first  to  the 
Temple  church. 

Here  Betty  could  not  refuse  to  look  and  be  in 
terested  a  little.  How  little,  she  did  not  shew. 
The  beauty  of  the  old  church,  its  venerable  age, 
and  the  strange  relics  of  the  past  in  its  monuments, 
did  command  some  attention.  Yet  Betty  grudged 
it;  and  went  over  the  Halls  and  the  Courts  after 
ward  with  a  half  reluctant  foot,  hearing  as  if  against 
her  will  all  that  Pitt  was  telling  her  and  his  mother 
about  them.  O  what  did  it  matter,  that  one  of 
Shakspeare's  plays  had  been  performed  in  the 
Middle  Temple  Hall  during  its  author's  life-time  ? 
and  what  did  it  signify  whether  a  given  piece  of 
architecture  were  Early  English  or  Perpendicular 
Gothic?  What  did  interest  her,  was  to  see  how 
lively  and  warm  was  Pitt's  knowledge  and  liking 
of  all  these  things.  Evidently  he  delighted  in 
them  and  was  full  of  information  concerning  them ; 
and  his  interest  did  move  Betty,  a  little.  It  moved 
her  to  speculation  also.  Could  this  man  be  so  ear 
nest  in  his  enjoyment  of  Norman  arches  and  polished 
shafts  and  the  effigies  of  old  knights,  and  still 
hold  to  the  views  and  principles  he  had  avowed  and 


THE  TOWER.  543 

advocated  last  year?  Could  he,  who  took  such 
pleasure  in  the  doings  and  records  of  the  past, 
really  mean  to  attach  himself  to  another  sort  of  life 
with  which  the  honours  and  dignities  and  delights 
of  this  common  world  have  nothing  to  do  ? 

The  question  recurred  again  afresh  on  their  re 
turn  home.  As  Betty  entered  the  house,  she  was 
struck  by  the  beauty  of  the  carved  oak  staircase, 
and  exclaimed  upon  it. 

".Yes,"  said  Pitt,  "that  is  the  prettiest  part  of 
the  house.  It  is  said  to  be  by  Inigo  Jones;  but 
perhaps  that  cannot  be  proved." 

"  Does  it  matter  ?  "  said  Betty  laughing. 

"Not  to  any  real  lover  of  it;  but  to  the  rest,  you 
know,  the  name  is  the  thing." 

"  k  Lover  of  it ' !  "  said  Betty.  *'  Can  you  love  a 
staircase  ?  " 

Pitt  laughed  out ;  then  he  answered  seriously. 

"  Don't  you  know  that  all  that  is  good  and  true 
is  in  a  way  bound  up  together  ?  it  is  one  whole ; 
and  I  take  it  to  be  certain  that  in  proportion  to  any 
one's  love  for  spiritual  and  moral  beauty  will  be, 
coeteris  paribus,  his  appreciation  of  all  expression 
of  it,  in  nature  or  art." 

"  But !  " — said  Betty.  " '  Spiritual  and  moral 
beauty  ! '  You  do  not  mean  that  this  oak  staircase 
is  an  expression  of  either  ?  " 

"  Of  both,  perhaps.  At  any  rate,  the  things  are 
very  closely  connected." 

"  You  are  an  enigma !  "  said  Betty. 

"I  hope  not  always  to  remain  so,"  he  answered. 


544  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Betty  went  up  the  beautiful  staircase,  noting  as 
she  went  its  beauties,  from  story  to  story.  She  had 
not  noticed  it  before,  although  it  really  took  up 
more  room  than  was  proportionate  to  the  size  of 
the  house.  What  did  Pitt  mean  by  those  last 
words  ?  she  was  querying.  And  could  it  be  possi 
ble,  that  the  owner  of  a  house  like  this,  with  a  pro 
perty  corresponding,  would  not  be  of  the  world  and 
live  in  the  world,  like  other  men?  He  must,  Betty 
thought.  It  is  all  very  well  for  people  who  have 
not  the  means  to  make  a  figure  in  s<aciety,  to  talk 
of  isolating  themselves  from  society.  A  man  may 
give  up  a  little;  but  when  he  has  much,  he  holds  on 
to  it.  But  how  was  it  with  Pitt?  She  must  try 
and  find  out. 

She  accordingly  made  an  attempt  that  same 
evening,  beginning  with  the  staircase  again. 

"  I  admired  Inigo  Jones  all  the  way  upstairs," 
she  said,  when  she  had  an  opportunity  to  talk  to 
Pitt  alone.  Mr.  Dallas  had  gone  to  sleep  after 
dinner,  and  his  wife  was  knitting  at  a  sufficient 
distance.  "The  quaint  fancies  and  delicate  work 
are  really  such  as  I  never  imagined  before  in  wood 
carving.  But  your  words  about  it  remain  a  puzzle 
to  me." 

"My  words?  About  Art  being  an  expression 
of  Truth  ?  Surely,  that  is  not  new  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  very  old;  but  I  do  not  understand  it." 

"  You  understand,  that  so  far  as  Art  is  genuine, 
it  is  a  setter-forth  of  Truth  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  suppose  so ;  of  some  truth.     Roses  must 


THE  TOWER.  545 

be  roses,  and  trees  must  be  trees;  and  of  course 
must  look  as  like  the  reality  as  possible." 

*'  That  is  the  very  lowest  thing  Art  can  dp,  and 
in  some  cases  is  not  true  Art  at  all.  Her  business 
is  to  tell  Truth — never  to  deceive." 

"  What  sort  of  truth  then  ?  " 

"What  I  said;  spiritual  and  moral." 

"  Ah  there  it  is !  Now  you  have  got  back  to  it. 
Now  you  are  talking  mystery,  or — forgive  me — 
transcendentalism." 

"No,  nothing  but  simple  and  very  plain  fact. 
It  is  this  first; — that  all  Truth  is  one ;  and  this  next, 
— that  in  the  world  of  creation  things  material  are 
the  expression  of  things  spiritual.  So  all  real 
beauty  in  form  or  colour  has  back  of  it  a  greater 
beauty  of  higher  degree." 

"You  are  talking  pure  mystery." 

"No,  surely,"  said  Pitt  eagerly.  "You  certainly 
recognize  the  truth  of  what  I  am  saying,  in  some 
things.  For  instance ;  you  cannot  look  up  steadily 
into  the  blue  infinity  of  one  of  our  American  skies 
on  a  clear  day,  at  least  /  cannot,  without  presently 
getting  the  impression  of  truth,  pure,  unfailing, 
incorruptible  truth,  in  its  Creator.  The  rose,  every 
where  in  the  world,  so  far  as  I  know,  is  the  ac 
cepted  emblem  of  love.  And  for  another  very 
familiar  instance, — Christ  is  called  in  the  Bible  the 
Sun  of  righteousness — the  Light  that  is  the  life  of 
man.  Do  you  know  how  close  to  fact  that  is? 
What  this  earth  would  be  if  deprived  of  the  sun 
for  a  few  days,  is  but  a  true  image  of  the  condition 


546  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

of  any  soul  finally  forsaken  by  the  Sun  of  righteous 
ness.  In  one  word,  death;  and  that  is  what  the 
Bible  means  by  death,  of  which  the  death  we  com 
monly  speak  of  is  again  but  a  faint  image." 

Betty  fidgetted  a  little;  this  was  not  what  she 
wished  to  speak  of;  it  was  getting  away  from  her 
point. 

" Your  staircase  set  me  wondering  about  you" 
she  said  boldly,  not  answering  his  speech  at  all. 

"  In  yet  another  connection  ?  "  said  Pitt  smiling. 

"  In  another  connection.  You  remember  you 
used  to  talk  to  me  pretty  freely  last  summer  about 
your  new  views  and  plans  of  life  ?  " 

"  I  remember.     But  my  staircase — ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  staircase.  You  know  it  is  rich  and 
stately,  as  well  as  beautiful.  Whatever  it  signifies 
to  you,  to  my  lower  vision  it.  means  a  position  in 
the  world  and  the  means  to  maintain  it.  And  I 
debated  with  myself  as  I  went  up  the  stairs,  whether 
the  owner  of  all  this  would  still  think  it  his  duty 
to  live  altogether  for  others,  and  not  for  himself 
like  common  people." 

She  looked  at  him,  and  Pitt  met  her  inquiring 
eyes  with  a  steady,  penetrating,  grave  look,  which 
half  made  her  wish  she  had  let  the  question  alone. 
He  delayed  his  answer  a  little,  and  then  he  said, 

"  Will  you  let  rne  meet  that  doubt  in  my  own 
way?" 

"  Certainly !  "  said  Betty,  surprised, — "  if  you  will 
forgive  me  its  arising." 

"Is  one  responsible  for  doubts?     One  may  be 


THE  TOWER.  547 

responsible  for  the  state  of  mind  from  which  they 
spring.  Then,  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  say  no 
more  on  the  subject  for  a  day  or  two.  But  I  will 
not  leave  you  unanswered ;  that  is,  unless  you  refuse 
to  submit  to  my  guidance  and  will  not  let  me  take 
iriy  own  way." — 

44  You  are  mysterious !  " 

4'  Will  you  go  with  me  when  I  ask  you  ?" 

44  Yes." 

44  Then  that  is  sufficient." 

Betty  thought  she  had  not  gained  much  by  her 
move. 

The  next  day  was  given  to  the  Tower.  Mrs. 
Dallas  did  not  go ;  her  husband  was  of  the  party 
instead.  The  inspection  of  the  place  was  thorough, 
and  occupied  some  hours;  Pitt  being  able,  through 
an  old  friend  of  Mr.  Strahan's  who  was  now  also 
his  friend,  to  obtain  an  order  from  the  Constable 
for  seeing  the  whole.  At  dinner  Betty  delivered 
herself  of  her  opinion. 

"  Were  you  busy  all  day  with  nothing  but  the 
Tower?  asked  Mrs.  Dallas. 

"  Stopped  for  luncheon — "  said  her  husband. 

44  And  we  did  our  work  thoroughly,  mamma," 
added  Pitt.  "You  must  take  time,  if  you  want 
to  see  anything." 

44  Well,"  said  Betty,  44 1  must  say,  if  this  is  what 
it  means,  to  live  in  an  old  country,  I  am  thankful  I 
live  in  a  new  one." 

44  What  now?"  asked  Mr.  Dallas.  44  What's  the 
matter  ?  " 


548  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Mrs.  Dallas  was  wiser,  that  she  did  not  go," 
Betty  went  on.  " '  I  have  supped  fall  of  horrors.' 
Really  I  have  read  history,  but  that  gives  it  to  one 
diluted.  1  had  no  notion  that  the  English  people 
were  so  savage." 

"  Come,  come !  no  worse  than  other  people,"  Mr. 
Dallas  put  in. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  it  is  with  other  people.  I  am 
thankful  we  have  no  such  monument  in  America. 
I  shouldn't  think  snow  would  lie  on  the  Tower !  " 

"  Doesn't  often,"  said  Pitt. 

"Think,  Mrs.  Dallas!  I  stood  in  that  little  chapel 
there — the  prisoners'  chapel — and  beneath  the  pave 
ment  lay  between  thirty  and  forty  people,  the  re 
mains  of  them,  who  lay  there  with  their  heads  sep 
arated  from  their  bodies;  and  some  of  them  with  no 
heads  at  all.  The  heads  had  been  set  up  on  Lon 
don  bridge  or  on  Temple  Bar  or  some  other  dread 
ful  place.  And  then  as  we  went  round  I  was  told 
that  here  was  the  spot  where  Lady  Jane  Grey  was 
beheaded ;  and  there  was  the  window  from  which 
she  saw  the  headless  body  of  her  husband  carried 
by;  and  there  stood  the  rack  on  which  Anne  Askew 
was  tortured;  and  there  was  the  prison  where  Ara 
bella  Stuart  died  insane;  and  here  was  the  axe 
which  used  to  be  carried  before  the  Lieutenant 
when  he  took  a  prisoner  to  his  trial,  and  was  car 
ried  before  the  prisoner  when  he  returned,  mostly 
with  the  sharp  edge  turned  towards  him.  I  do 
not  see  how  people  used  to  live  in  those  times. 
There  are  Anne  Boleyn  and  her  brother,  Lady  Jane 


THE  TOWER.  549 

Grey  and  her  husband,  and  other  Dudleys  innum 
erable,—" 

"  My  dear,  do  stop,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas.  "  I  cannot 
eat  my  dinner,  and  you  cannot." 

"  Eat  dinner !  Did  anybody  use  to  eat  dinner,  in 
those  times  ?  Did  the  world  go  on  as  usual  V  with 
such  horrors  on  the  throne  and  in  the  dungeon  ?  " 

"It  is  a  great  national  monument,"  said  Mr. 
Dallas,  "  that  any  people  might  be  proud  of." 

"  Proud ! — Well,  I  am  glad,  as  I  said,  that  the  sky 
is  blue  over  America." 

"  The  blue  looks  down  on  nothing  so  fine  as  our 
old  Tower.  And  it  isn't  so  blue,  either,  if  you  could 
know  all." 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  take  us  next,  Pitt  ? " 
Mrs.  Dallas  asked,  to  give  things  a  pleasanter  turn. 

"  How  did  you  like  St.  Paul's,  Miss  Betty?"  her 
husband  went  on,  before  Pitt  could  speak. 

"  It  is  very  black  !  " 

"  That  is  one  of  its  beauties,"  remarked  Pitt. 

"  Is  it  ?  But  I  am  accustomed  to  purer  air.  I 
do  not  like  so  much  smoke." 

"  You  were  interested  in  the  monuments  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Dallas. 

"  Honestly,  I  am  not  fond  of  monuments.  Be 
sides,  there  is  really  a  reminiscence  of  the  Tower 
and  the  axe  there  very  often.  I  had  no  concep 
tion  London  was  such  a  place." 

"Let  us  take  her  to  Hyde  Park  and  shew  her 
something  cheerful,  Pitt." 

"I  should  like  above  all  things  to  go  to  the 


550  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

House  of  Commons  and  hear  a  debate — if  it  could 
be  managed." 

Pitt  said  it  could  be  managed;  and  it  was  man 
aged;  and  they  went  to  the  Park;  and  they  drove 
out  to  see  some  of  the  beauties  near  London;  Kich- 
mond,  Hampton,  and  Windsor;  and  several  days 
passed  away  in  great  enjoyment  for  the  whole 
party.  Betty  forgot  the  Tower  and  grew  gay. 
The  strangeness  of  her  position  was  forgotten ;  the 
house  came  to  be  familiar;  the  alternation  of  sight 
seeing  with  the  quiet  household  life  was  delightful. 
Nothing  could  be  better,  might  it  last.  Could  it 
not  last?  Nay,  Betty  would  have  relinquished  the 
sightseeing  and  bargained  for  only  the  household 
life,  if  she  could  have  retained  that. 


CHAPTER   XLIII. 
MARTIN'S    COURT. 

"TT7HAT  is  for  to-day,  Pitt?" 

V  V  There  had  been  a  succession  of  rather  gay 
days,  visiting  of  galleries  and  palaces.  Mrs.  Dallas 
put  the  question  at  breakfast. 

"  I  am  going  to  shew  Miss  Frere  something,  if 
she  will  allow  me." 

"  She  will  allow  you,  of  course.  You  have  done 
it  pretty  often  lately.  Where  is  it  now  ?  " 

"  Nowhere  for  you,  mamma.  My  show  to-day  is 
for  Miss  Frere  alone." 

"  Alone  ?     Why  may  I  not  go  ?  " 

"You  would  not  enjoy  it." 

"  Then  perhaps  she  will  not  enjoy  it." 

"  Perhaps  not." 

"  But  Pitt,  what  do  you  mean  ?  and  what  is  this 
you  want  to  shew  her  which  she  does  not  want  to 
see?" 

"  She  can  tell  you  all  about  it  afterwards,  if  she 
chooses." 

"  Perhaps  she  will  not  choose  to  go  with  you  on 
such  a  doubtful  invitation." 

(551; 


552  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Betty  however  declared  herself  ready  for  any 
thing.  So  she  was,  under  such  guidance. 

They  took  a  cab  for  a  certain  distance;  then  Pitt 
dismissed  it  and  they  went  forward  on  foot.  It 
was  a  dull,  hot  day;  clouds  hanging  low  and  threat 
ening  rain,  but  no  rain  falling  as  yet.  Rain,  if  de 
cided,  to  a" good  degree  keeps  down  exhalations  in 
the  streets  of  a  city,  and  so  far  is  a  help  to  the  way 
farer  who  is  at  all  particular  about  the  air  he 
breathes.  No  such  beneficent  influence  was  abroad 
to-day;  and  Betty's  impressions  were  not  altogether 
agreeable. 

"  What  part  of  the  city  is  this  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  a  bad  part  at  all.  In  fact  we  are  near  a 
very  fashionable  quarter.  This  particular  street  is 
a  business  thoroughfare,  as  you  see." 

Betty  was  silent,  and  they  went  on  a  while;  then 
turned  sharp  out  of  this  thoroughfare  into  a  narrow- 
alley.  It  was  hot  and  close  and  dank  enough  here 
to  make  Miss  Frere  shrink,  though  she  would  not 
betray  it.  But  dead  cats  and  decaying  cabbage 
leaves,  in  a  not  very  clean  alley  where  the  sun 
rarely  shines,  and  briefly  then,  with  the  thermom 
eter  well  up  on  a  summer  day,  altogether  make 
an  atmosphere  not  suited  to  delicate  senses.  Pitt 
picked  the  way  along  the  narrow  passage,  which 
at  the  end  opened  into  a  little  court.  This  was 
somewhat  cleaner  than  the  alley;  also  it  lay  so  that 
the  sun  sometimes  visited  it,  though  here  too  his 
visits  could  be  but  brief.  For  on  the  opposite  side 
the  court  was  shut  in  and  overshadowed  by  the  tall 


MARTIN'S  COURT.  553 

backs  of  great  houses.  They  seemed,  to  Betty's 
fancy,  to  cast  as  much  moral  as  physical  shadow 
over  the  place.  The  houses  in  this  court  were 
small  and  dingy.  If  one  looked  straight  up,  there 
was  a  space  of  grey  cloud  visible;  some  days  it 
would  no  doubt  be  a  space  of  blue  sky.  No  other 
thing  even  dimly  suggesting  refreshment  or  purity 
was  within  the  range  of  vision.  Pitt  slowly  paced 
along  the  row  of  houses. 

"  Who  lives  here  ? "  Betty  asked,  partly  to  re 
lieve  the  oppression  that  was  creeping  upon  her. 

"  No  householders,  that  I  know  of.  People  who 
live  in  one  room,  or  perhaps  in  two  rooms ;  there 
fore  in  every  house  there  are  a  number  of  families. 
This  is  Martin's  court.  And  here" — he  stopped 
before  one  of  the  doors, — "  in  this  house,  in  a  room 
on  the  third  floor — let  me  suppose  a  case,—" 

"  Third  floor  ?  why  there  are  only  two-stories." 

"  In  the  garret,  then, — there  lives  an  old  woman, 
over  seventy  years  old,  all  alone.  She  has  been 
ill  for  a  long  time,  and  suffers  a  great  deal  of 
pain." 

"  Who  takes  care  of  her  ?  "  Betty  asked,  wonder 
ing  at  the  same  time  why  Pitt  told  her  all  this. 

"  She  has  no  means  to  pay  anybody  to  take  care 
of  her." 

"  But  how  does  she  live  ? — if  she  cannot  do  any 
thing  for  herself." 

"  She  can  do  nothing  at  all  for  herself.  She  has 
been  dependent  on  the  kindness  of  her  neighbours. 
They  are  poor  too,  and  have  their  hands  full;  still, 


554  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

from  time  to  time  one  and  another  would  look  in 
upon  her,  light  a  fire  for  her,  and  give  her  some 
thing  to  eat;  that  is,  when  they  did  not  forget  it." 

"  And  what  if  they  did  forget  it?  " 

"  Then  she  must  wait  till  somebody  remembered ; 
wait,  perhaps  days,  to  get  her  bed  made;  lie  alone 
in  her  pain  all  day,  except  for  those  rare  visits ;  and 
even  have  to  hire  a  boy  with  a  penny  to  bring  her 
a  pitcher  of  water;  lie  alone  all  night  and  wait  in 
the  morning  till  somebody  could  give  her  her 
breakfast." 

"  Why  do  you  tell  me  all  this,  Mr.  Pitt  ?  "  said 
Betty,  facing  round  on  him. 

"  Ask  me  that  by  and  by.  Come  a  little  further. 
Here,  in  this  next  house  but  one,  there  is  a  man 
sick  with  rheumatism — in  a  fever;  when  I  first  saw 
him  he  was  lying  there  shivering  and  in  great 
pain,  with  no  fire;  and  his  daughter,  a  girl  of  per 
haps  a  dozen  years  old,  was  trying  to  light  a  fire 
with  a  few  splinters  of  sticks  that  she  had  picked 
up.  That  was  last  winter,  in  cold  weather.  They 
were  poverty-stricken,  since  the  man  had  been 
some  time  out  of  work." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Betty.  "  I  must  not  repeat  my 
question ;  but  what  is  all  this  to  me  ?  I  have  no 
power  to  help  them.  Do  you  know  these  people 
yourself?" 

"Yes,  I  know  them.  In  the  last  house  of  the 
row  there  is  another  old  woman  I  want  to  tell  you 
of;  and  then  we  will  go.  She  is  not  ill,  nor  disabled ; 
she  is  only  very  old  and  quite  alone.  She  is  not 


MARTIN'S  COURT.  555 

unhappy  either,  for  she  is  a  true  old  Christian. 
Bat  think  of  this;  in  the  room  which  she  occupies, 
which  is  half  underground,  there  is  just  one  hour 
in  the  day  when  a  sunbeam  can  find  entrance. 
For  that  hour  she  watches;  and  when  the  sky  is 
not  clouded,  and  it  comes,  she  takes  her  Bible  and 
holds  it  in  the  sunshine  to  read  for  that  blessed 
hour.  It  is  all  she  has  in  the  twenty  four.  The 
rest  of  the  time  she  must  only  think  of  what  she 
has  read ;  the  place  is  too  dark  for  any  more." 

"  Do  let  us  go  !  "  said  Betty ;  and  she  turned, 
and  almost  fled  back  to  the  alley  and  through  the 
alley  back  to  the  street.  There  they  walked  more 
moderately  a  space  of  some  rods  before  she  found 
breath  and  words.  She  faced  round  on  her  con 
ductor  again. 

"  Why  do  you  take  me  to  such  a  place,  and  tell 
me  such  things  ?  " 

"  Will  you  let  that  question  still  rest  a  little 
while?"  Almost  as  he  spoke  Pitt  called  another 
cab;  and  Betty  and  he  were  presently  speeding  on 
again,  whither  she  knew  not.  It  was  a  good  time 
to  talk,  and  she  repeated  her  question. 

"  Instead  of  answering  you,  I  would  like  to  put 
a  question  on  my  side,"  he  returned.  "  What  do 
you  think  is  duty,  on  the  part  of  a  servant  of 
Christ,  towards  such  cases?" 

"  Pray  tell  me,  is  there  not  some  system  of  poor 
relief  in  this  place  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  is  the  parish  help.  And  sorrowful 
help  it  is  !  The  parishes  are  often  very  large,  the 


.55fi  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

sufferers  very  many,  the  cases  of  fraud  and  trickery 
almost — perhaps  quite — as  numerous  as  those  at 
least  which  come  to  the  notice  of  the  parish  au 
thorities.  The  parish  authorities  are  but  average 
men ;  is  it  wonderful  if  they  are  hard  administra 
tors?  I  can  tell  you,  justice  is  bitterly  hard,  as 
she  walks  the  streets  here ;  and  mercy's  hand  has 
grown  rough  with  friction  !  " 

Betty  looked  at  the  speaker,  whose  brow  was 
knit  and  his  eye  darkened  and  flashing;  she  half 
laughed. 

"  You  are  eloquent !  "  she  said.  "  You  ought  to 
be  representing  the  case  on  the  floor  of  the  House 
of  Commons." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  coming  down  to  an  easier  tone, 
"  the  parish  authorities  are  but  men,  as  I  said,  and 
they  grow  suspicious,  naturally;  and  in  any  case 
the  relief  they  give  is  utterly  insufficient.  A  shill 
ing  a  week,  or  two  shillings  a  week, — what  would 
they  do  for  the  people  I  have  been  telling  you  of? 
And  it  is  hard  dealing  with  the  parish  authorities. 
I  know  it,  for  here  and  there  at  least  I  have  fol 
lowed  Job's  example;  'the  cause  I  knew  not,  I 
searched  out.'  One  must  do  that,  or  one  runs  the 
risk  of  being  taken  in,  and  throwing  money  away 
upon  rogues  which  ought  to  go  to  help  honest 
people." 

" But  that  takes  time?" 

"  Yes." 

"A  great  deal  of  time,  if  it  is  to  be  done  often." 

"Yes." 


MARTIN'S  COURT.  557 

"  Mr.  Pitt,  if  you  follow  out  that  sort  of  business, 
it  would  leave  you  time  for  nothing  else." 

"  What  better  can  I  do  with  my  time  ?  " 

"  Just  suppose  everybody  did  the  like !  " 

"  Suppose  they  did." 

"  What  would  be  the  state  of  things  ?  " 

"  I  should  say — the  world  would  be  in  a  better 
state  of  health;  and  that  elephant  we  once  spoke 
of  would  not  shake  his  head  quite  so  often." 

"  But  you  are  not  the  elephant,  as  I  pointed  out,  if 
I  remember;  the  world  does  not  rest  on  your  head." 

"  Part  of  it  does.  Go  on  and  answer  my  ques 
tion.  What  ought  I  to  do  for  these  people  of  whom 
I  have  told  you  ?  " 

"But  you  cannot  reach  everybody.  You  can 
reach  only  a  few." 

"  Yes.     For  those  few,  what  ought  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say  you  know  of  other  cases,  that  you 
have  not  said  anything  about, — equally  miserable?" 

"  More  miserable,  I  assure  you,"  said  Pitt  look 
ing  at  her.  "  What  then  ?  Answer  my  question, 
like  a  good  woman." 

"  I  anj  not  a  good  woman." 

"  Answer  it  like  a  good  woman,  anyhow,"  said 
Pitt  smiling.  "  What  should  I  do,  properly,  for 
such  people  as  those  I  have  brought  to  your  notice? 
Apply  the  golden  rule — the  only  one  that  can  give 
the  measure  of  things.  In  their  place,  what  would 
you  wish, — and  have  a  right  to  wish, — that  some 
one  should  do  for  you?  what  may  those  who  have 
nothing  demand  from  those  who  have  everything?" 


558  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  Why  they  could  demand  all  you  have  got !  " 

"  Not  justly.  Cannot  you  set  your  imagination 
to  work  and  answer  me?  I  am  not  talking  for 
nothing.  Take  my  old  Christian,  near  eighty,  who 
sees  a  sunbeam  for  one  hour  in  the  twenty  four, 
when  the  sun  shines,  and  uses  it  to  read  her  Bible. 
The  rest  of  the  twenty  four  hours,  without  even  the 
company  of  a  sunbeam.  Imagine, — what  would 
you,  in  her  place,  wish  for  ?  " 

"  I  should  wish  to  die,  I  think." 

"  It  would  be  welcome  to  Mrs.  Gregory,  I  do 
not  doubt,  though  perhaps  for  a  different  rea 
son.  Still,  you  would  not  counsel  suicide,  or  man 
slaughter.  While  you  continued  in  life,  what  would 
you  like  ?  " 

"  0,"  said  Betty  with  an  emphatic  utterance,  "  I 
would  like  a  place  where  I  could  breathe ! " 

"  Better  lodgings." 

"Fresh  air.  I  would  beg  for  air.  Of  all  the 
horrors  of  such  places,  the  worst  seems  to  me  the 
want  of  air  fit  to  breathe." 

"Then  you  think  she  ought  to  have  a  better 
lodging,  in  a  better  quarter.  She  cannot  pay  for 
it.  I  can.  Ought  I  to  give  it  to  her  ?  " 

Betty  fidgetted,  inwardly.  The  conditions  of 
the  cab  did  not  allow  of  much  external  fidget- 
ting. 

"  I  do  not  know  why  you  ask  me  this,"  she  said. 

"  No,  but  indulge  me !  I  do  not  ask  you  with 
out  a  purpose." 

"  I  am  afraid  of  your  purpose !     Yes,  if  I  must 


MARTIN'S  COURT.  559 

tell  you,  I  should  say, — 0  take  me  out  of  this! 
Let  me  see  the  sun  whenever  he  can  be  seen  in 
this  rainy  London;  and  let  me  have  sweet  air  out 
side  of  my  windows.  Then  I  would  like  somebody 
to  look  after  me;  to  open  my  window  in  summer 
and  make  my  fire  in  winter,  and  prepare  nice  meals 
for  me.  I  would  like  good  bread,  and  a  cup  of 
drinkable  tea,  and  a  little  bit  of  butter  on  my  bread. 
And  clothes  enough  to  keep  clean;  and  then  I 
would  like  to  live  to  thank  you  I  " — 

Betty  had  worked  herself  up  to  a  point  where 
she  was  very  near  a  great  burst  of  tears.  She 
stopped  with  a  choked  sob  in  her  throat,  and  looked 
out  of  the  cab  window.  Pitt's  voice  was  changed 
when  he  spoke. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  thought." 

"  And  you  have  done  it !  " 

"No,  I  am  doing  it.  I  could  not  at  once  find 
what  I  wanted.  Now  I  have  got  it,  I  believe.  Go 
on  now,  please,  and  tell  me  what  ought  to  be  done 
for  the  man  in  rheumatic  fever." 

"The  doctor  would  know,  better  than  I." 

"  He  cannot  pay  for  a  doctor." 

"  But  he  ought  to  have  one  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  thought  so." 

"  I  see  what  you  are  coming  to,"  said  Betty; 
"  but  Mr.  Pitt,  I  can  not  see  that  it  is  your  duty  to 
pay  physician's  bills  for  everybody  that  cannot  af 
ford  it." 

"  I  am  not  talking  of  everybody.  I  am  speak 
ing  of  this  Mr.  Hutchins." 


560  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  But  there  are  plenty  more,  as  badly  off." 

"  As  badly, — and  worse." 

"You  cannot  take  care  of  them  all." 

"Therefore — ?  What  is  your  deduction  from 
that  fact  ?  " 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  stop  ?  " 

"  Where  ought  I  to  stop  ?  Put  yourself,  in  im 
agination,  in  that  condition  I  have  described;  the 
chill  of  a  rheumatic  fever,  and  a  room  without  fire, 
in  the  depth  of  winter.  What  would  your  sense 
of  justice  demand  from  the  well  and  strong  and 
comfortable  and  able  ?  Honestly." 

"Why,"  said  Betty,  again  surveying  Pitt  from 
one  side, — "  with  my  notions,  I  should  want  a  doc- 
ter,  and  an  attendant,  and  a  comfortable  room." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  his  notions  would  agree  with 
yours, — if  his  fancy  could  get  so  far." 

"  But  who  ought  to  furnish  those  things  for  him 
is  another  question." 

"  Another,  but  not  more  hard  to  answer.  The 
Bible  rule  is,  '  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do, 
do  it—'." 

"  Will  you,  ought  you,  to  do  all  that  you  find  to 
do?" 

But  Pitt  went  on,  in  a  quiet  business  tone — "  In 
that  same  court  I  found,  some  time  ago,  a  man  who 
had  been  injured  by  an  accident.  A  heavy  piece 
of  iron  had  fallen  on  his  foot ;  he  worked  in  a  ma 
chine  shop.  For  months  he  was  obliged  to  stay  at 
home  under  the  doctor's  care ;  he  used  up  all  his 
earnings;  and  strength  and  health  were  alike  gone. 


MARTIN'S  COURT.  561 

The  man  of  fifty  looked  like  seventy.  The  doctor 
said  he  could  hardly  grow  strong  again,  without 
change  of  air." 

"Mr.  Pitt!—"  said  Betty,  and  stopped. 

"  He  has  a  wife  and  nine  children." 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  What  would  you  have  done  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know !  I  never  thought  it  was  my  bus 
iness  to  supplement  all  the  world's  failures." 

"  Suppose  for  a  moment  it  were  Christ  the  Lord 
himself  in  either  of  these  situations  we  have  been 
looking  at  ?  " 

u  I  cannot  suppose  it !  " 

"How  would  you  feel  about  ministry  then?" 

Betty  was  silent ;  choked  with  discomfort  now. 

"  Would  you  think  you  could  do  enough  ?  But 
Miss  Frere,  he  says  it  is  himself,  in  every  case  of 
his  servants;  and  what  is  done  to  them  he  counts 
as  done  to  himself.  And  so  it  is  ! " 

Looking  again  keenly  at  the  speaker,  Betty  was 
sure  that  the  eyes,  which  did  not  meet  hers,  were 
soft  with  moisture. 

"  What  did  you  do  for  that  man  ?  " 

"  I  sent  him  to  the  seaside  for  three  weeks.  He 
came  back  perfectly  well.  But  then  his  employers 
would  not  take  him  on  again ;  they  said  they  wanted 
younger  men;  so  I  had  to  find  new  work  for  him." 

"  There  was  another  old  woman  you  told  me  of 
in  that  dreadful  court ; — what  did  you  do  for  her  ?  " 

"  Put  her  in  clover,"  said  Pitt  smiling.  "  I  moved 
Hutchins  and  his  family  into  a  better  lodging,  where 


562  A   RED  WALLFLOWER. 

they  could  have  a  room  to  spare;  and  then  I  paid 
Mrs.  Hutchins  to  take  care  of  her." 

"You  might  go  on,  for  ought  I  see,  and  spend 
your  whole  life,  and  all  you  have,  in  this  sort  -of 
work." 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  be  a  disagreeable  dis 
position  to  make  of  both  ?  " 

"Why,  yes!"  said  Betty.  "Would  you  give 
up  all  your  tastes  and  pursuits, — literary,  and  ar 
tistic,  and  antiquarian,  and  I  don't  know  what  all, 
— and  be  a  mere  walking  Benevolent  Society  ?  " 

"  No  need  to  give  them  up,  any  further  than  as 
they  would  interfere  with  something  more  impor 
tant,  and  more  enjoyable." 

"  More  enjoyable!  " 

"  Yes.  I  think,  Miss  Betty,  the  pleasure  of  doing 
something  for  Christ,  is  the  greatest  pleasure  I 
know." 

Betty  could  have  cried  with  vexation ;  in  which 
however  there  was  a  distracting  mingling  of  other 
feelings, — admiration  of  Pitt,  envy  of  his  evident 
happiness,  regret  that  she  herself  was  so  different ; 
but  above  all,  dismay  that  she  was  so  far  off.  She 
was  silent  the  rest  of  the  drive. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 
THE  DUKE  OF  TEEFOIL. 

THEY  drove  a  long  distance,  much  of  the  way 
through  uninteresting  regions.     Pitt  stopped 
the  cab  at  last,  took  Betty  out,  and  led  her  through 
one  and   another   street   and   round   corner   after 
corner,  till  at  last  he  turned  into  an  alley  again. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  me  now,  Mr.  Pitt  ?  "  she 
asked,  in  some  trepidation.  "Not  another  Martin's 
Court !  " 

"I  want  you  to  look  well  at  this  place." 
"  I  see  it.  What  for  ?  "  asked  Betty,  casting  her 
eyes  about  her.  It  was  a  very  narrow  alley,  lead 
ing  again,  as  might  be  seen  by  the  gleam  of  light 
at  the  further  end,  into  a  somewhat  more  open 
space ;  another  court.  Here  the  word  open  had  no 
application.  The  sides  of  the  alley  were  very  near 
together  and  very  high,  leaving  a  strange  gap  be 
tween  walls  of  brick,  at  least  strange  when  consid 
ered  with  reference  to  human  habitation;  all  of 
freedom  or  expanse  there  was  indicated  anywhere 
being  a  long  and  very  distant  strip  of  blue  sky 

overhead  when  the  weather  was  clear.     Not  even 

(563) 


564  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

that  to-day.  The  heavy  clouds  hung  low,  seeming 
to  rest  upon  the  housetops,  and  shutting  up  all 
below  under  their  breathless  envelopment.  Hot, 
sultry,  stifling,  the  air  felt  to  Betty ;  well  nigh  un 
endurable;  but  Pitt  seemed  to  be  of  intent  that  she 
should  endure  it,  for  a  while,  and  with  some  diffi 
culty  she  submitted.  Happily  the  place  was  cleaner 
than  Martin's  Court,  and  no  dead  cats  nor  decaying 
vegetables  poisoned  what  air  there  was.  But  surely 
somewhat  else  poisoned  it.  The  doors  of  dwellings 
on  the  one  side  and  on  the  other  stood  open,  and 
here  and  there  a  woman  or  two  had  pressed  to  the 
opening  with  her  work,  both  to  get  light  and  to 
get  some  freshness,  if  there  were  any  to  be  had. 

Half  way  down  the  alley,  Pitt  paused  before  one 
of  these  open  doors.  A  woman  had  placed  herself 
as  close  to  it  as  she  could,  having  apparently  some 
fine  work  in  hand  for  which  she  could  not  get  light 
enough.  Betty  could  without  much  difficulty  see 
past  her  into  the  space  behind.  It  was  a  tiny  apart 
ment,  smaller  than  anything  Miss  Frere  had  ever 
seen  used  as  a  living  room ;  yet  a  living  room  it 
was.  She  saw  that  a  very  minute  stove  was  in  it, 
a  small  table,  and  another  chair;  and  on  some 
shelves  against  the  wall  there  was  apparently  the 
inmate's  store  of  what  stood  to  her  for  china  and 
plate.  Two  cups  Betty  thought  she  could  per 
ceive;  what  else  might  be  there  the  light  did  not 
serve  to  shew.  The  woman  was  respectable-look 
ing,  because  her  dress  was  whole  and  tolerably 
clean;  but  it  shewed  great  poverty  nevertheless, 


THE  DUKE  OF  TREFOIL.  565 

being  frequently  mended  and  patched,  and  of  that 
indeterminate  dull  grey  to  which  all  colours  come 
with  overmuch  wear.  She  seemed  to  be  middle- 
aged  ;  but  as  she  raised  her  head  to  see  who  had 
stopped  in  front  of  her,  Betty  was  so  struck  by  the 
expression  and  tale-telling  of  it  that  she  forgot  the 
question  of  age.  Age?  she  might  have  been  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years  old,  to  judge  by  the  life- 
weary  set  of  her  features.  A  complexion  that  told 
of  confinement,  eyes  dim  with  over-straining,  lines 
of  face  that  spoke  weariness  and  disgust;  and  fur 
ther,  what  to  Betty's  surprise  seemed  a  hostile  look 
of  defiance.  The  face  cleared  however  as  she  saw 
who  stood  before  her ;  a  great  softening  and  a  little 
light  came  into  it;  she  rose  and  dropped  a  curtsey 
which  was  evidently  not  a  mere  matter  of  form. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Mills?"  said  Pitt;  and 
his  voice  was  very  gentle  as  he  spoke,  and  half  to 
Betty's  indignation  he  lifted  his  hat  also.  "  This 
is  rather  a  warm  day ! " 

k4  Well  it  be,  sir,"  said  the  woman  resuming  her 
seat.  "  It  nigh  stifles  the  heart  in  one,  it  do  !  " 

"I  am  afraid  you  cannot  see  to  work  very  well, 
the  clouds  are  so  thick  ?  " 

"I  thank  you,  sir;  the  clouds  is  allays  thick, 
these  days.  Had  you  business  with  me,  Mr. 
Dallas?" 

"Not  to-day,  Mrs.  Mills.  I  am  shewing  this 
lady  a  bit  of  London." 

"  And  would  the  lady  be  your  wife,  sir  ?  " 

lt  0  no,"  said  Pitt,  laughing  a  little ;  "  you  honour 


566  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

me  too  much.  This  is  an  American  lady,  from 
over  the  sea  ever  so  far;  and  I  want  her  to  know 
what  sort  of  a  place  London  is." 

"  It's  a  bitter  poor  place  for  the  likes  of  us,"  said 
the  woman.  "You  should  shew  her  where  the 
grand  folk  lives,  that  built  these  houses  for  the 
poor  to  be  stowed  in." 

"  Yes,  I  have  shewed  her  some  of  those,  and  now 
I  have  brought  her  to  see  your  part  of  the  world.' 

"  It's  not  to  call  a  part  o'  the  world ! "  said  the 
woman.  "Do  you  call  this  a  part  of  the  world, 
Mr.  Dallas?  I  mind  when  I  lived  where  trees 
grow,  and  there  was  primroses  in  the  grass ;  them's 
happier  that  hasn't  known  it.  If  you  axed  me 
sometimes,  I  would  tell  you  that  this  is  hell !  Yet 
it  aint  so  bad  as  most.  It's  what  folk  call  very 
decent.  0  yes !  it's  decent  it  is,  no  doubt.  I'll  be 
carried  out  of  it  some  day,  and  bless  the  day !  " 

"  How  is  your  boy  ?  " 

"  He's  fairly,  sir,  thank  you." 

"No  better?"  said  Pitt  gently. 

"  He  won't  never  be  no  better,"  the  woman  said 
with  a  doggedness  which  Betty  guessed  was  as 
sumed  to  hide  the  tenderer  feeling  beneath.  "  He's 
done  for.  There  aint  nothin'  but  ill  luck  comes 
upon  folks  as  lives  in  such  a  hole;  and  couldn't 
other ! " 

"I'll  come  and  see  you  about  Tim,"  said  Pitt. 
"  Keep  up  a  good  heart  in  the  mean  while.  Good 
bye !  I'll  see  you  soon." 

He  went  no  further  in  that  alley.     He  turned 


THE  DUKE  OF  TREFOIL.  567 

and  brought  Betty  out,  called  another  cab,  and  or 
dered  the  man  to  drive  to  Kensington  gardens. 
Till  they  arrived  there  he  would  not  talk;  bade 
Betty  wait  with  her  questions.  The  way  was  long 
enough  to  let  her  think  them  all  over  several  times. 
At  last  the  cab  stopped,  Pitt  handed  her  out,  and 
led  her  into  the  gardens.  Here  was  a  change. 
Trees  of  noble  age  and  growth  shadowed  the 
ground,  greensward  stretched  away  in  peaceful 
smoothness,  the  dust  and  the  noise  of  the  great 
city  seemed  to  be  escaped.  It  was  fresh  and  shady, 
and  even  sweet.  They  could  hear  each  other  speak, 
without  unduly  raising  their  voices.  Pitt  went  on 
till  he  found  a  place  that  suited  him,  and  they  sat 
down,  in  a  refreshing  greenness  and  quiet. 

"  Now,"  said  Betty,  "  1  suppose  I  may  ask.  What 
did  you  take  me  to  that  last  place  for? " 

"  That  will  appear  in  due  time.  What  did  you 
think  of  it?" 

"  It  is  difficult  to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  it.  Is 
much  of  London  like  that  ?  " 

"Much  of  it  is  far  worse." 

"Well,  there  is  nothing  like  that  in  New  York 
or  Washington." 

"  Do  not  be  too  sure.  There  is  something  like 
that  wherever  rich  men  are  congregated  in  large 
numbers,  to  live." 

"  Rich  men  !  "  cried  Betty. 

"  Yes.  So  far  as  I  know,  this  sort  of  thing  is  to 
be  found  nowhere  else,  but  where  rich  men  dwell. 
It  is  the  growth  of  their  desire  for  large  incomes. 


568  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

That  woman  we  visited — what  did  you  think  of 
her?" 

"She  impressed  me  very  much,  and  oddly.  I 
could  not  quite  read  her  look.  She  seemed  to  be 
in  a  manner  hostile,  not  to  you,  but  I  thought  to 
all  the  world  beside ;  a  disagreeable  look  !  " 

"  She  is  a  lace-mender — " 

"  A  lace-mender !  "  broke  in  Betty.  "  Down  in 
that  den  of  darkness  ?  " 

"  And  she  pays — Did  you  see  where  she  lived  ?  " 

"  I  saw  a  room  not  bigger  than  a  good-sized  box; 
is  that  all?" 

"  There  is  an  inner  room — or  box — without  win 
dows,  where  she  and  her  child  sleep.  For  that 
lodging  that  woman  pays  half  a  crown  a  week, 
that  is,  about  five  shillings  American  money,  to 
one  of  the  richest  noblemen  in  England." 

"  A  nobleman  !  "  cried  Betty. 

"The  duke  of  Trefoil." 

"  A  nobleman !  "  Betty  repeated.  "  A  duke,  and 
a  lace-mender,  and  five  shillings  a  week ! " 

"The  glass  roofs  of  his  hothouses  and  greenhouses 
would  cover  an  acre  of  ground.  His  wife  sits  in 
a  boudoir  opening  into  a  conservatory  where  it  is 
summer  all  the  year  round;  roses  bloom  and  violets, 
and  geraniums  wreathe  the  walls  and  palm  trees 
are  grouped  around  fountains.  She  eats  ripe  straw 
berries  every  day  in  the  year  if  she  chooses,  and 
might  like  Judah  '  wash  her  feet  in  the  blood  of  the 
grape,'  the  fruit  is  so  plenty.  The  while  my  lace- 
mender  strains  her  eyes  to  get  half  a  crown  a  week 


THE  DUKE  OF   TREFOIL.  569 

for  his  grace.  All  that  alley  and  its  poor  crowded 
lodgings  belong  to  him." 

"I  don't  wonder  she  looks  bitter,  poor  thing. 
Do  you  suppose  she  knows  how  her  landlord  lives?" 

"  I  doubt  if  she  does.  She  perhaps  never  heard 
of  the  house  and  gardens  at  Trefoil  park.  But  in 
her  youth  she  was  a  servant  in  a  good  house  in  the 
country,  not  so  great  a  house;  and  she  knows 
something  of  the  difference  between  the  way  the 
rich  live  and  the  poor.  She  is  very  bitter  over 
the  contrast,  and  I  cannot  much  blame  her ! " 

"Yet  it  is  not  just." 

u  Which  ?  "  said  Pitt  smiling. 

"That  feeling  of  the  poor  towards  the  rich." 

"  Is  it  not  ?  It  has  some  justice.  I  was  coming 
home  one  night  last  winter,  late,  and  found  my 
way  obstructed  by  the  crowd  of  arrivals  to  an  en 
tertainment  given  at  a  certain  great  house.  The 
house  stood  a  little  back  from  the  street,  and  car 
peting  was  laid  down  for  the  softly  shod  feet  to 
pass  over.  Of  course  there  were  gathered  a  small 
crowd  of  lookers-on,  pressing  as  near  as  they  were 
allowed  to  come ;  trying  to  catch,  if  they  might,  a 
gleam  or  a  glitter  from  the  glories  they  could  not 
approach.  1  don't  know  if  the  contrast  struck 
them,  but  it  struck  me;  the  contrast  between 
those  satin  slippers  treading  the  carpet,  and  the 
bare  feet  standing  on  the  muddy  stones;  feet  that 
had  never  known  the  touch  of  a  carpet  anywhere, 
nor  of  anything  else  either  clean  or  soft." 

"  But  those  contrasts  must  be,  Mr.  Dallas." 


570  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Must  they?  Is  not  something  wrong,  do  you 
think,  when  the  duke  of  Trefoil  eats  strawberries 
all  the  year  long,  and  my  lace-mender  in  the  height 
of  the  season  perhaps  never  sees  one  ?  When  the 
duchess  sits  in  her  bower  of  beauty,  with  the  vio 
lets  under  her  feet  and  the  palms  over  her  head, 
and  the  poor  in  her  husband's  houses  cannot  get 
a  flower  to  remind  them  that  all  the  world  is  not 
like  a  London  alley?  Does  not  something  within 
you  say  that  the  scales  of  the  social  balance  might 
be  a  little  more  evenly  adjusted?  " 

"How  are  you  going  to  do  it ? " 

"  If  you  do  not  feel  that,"  Pitt  went  on,  "  I  am 
afraid  that  some  of  the  lower  classes  do.  I  said  I 
did  not  know  whether  the  contrast  struck  the  peo 
ple  that  night,  but  I  do  know  it  did.  I  heard 
words  and  saw  looks  that  betrayed  it.  And  when 
the  day  comes  that  the  poor  will  know  more  and 
begin  to  think  about  these  things, — 1  am  afraid 
there  will  be  trouble." 

"  But  what  can  you  do  ?  " 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  was  going  to  ask  you," 
said  Pitt,  changing  his  tone  and  with  a  genial 
smile.  "Take  my  lace-mender  foran example.  These 
things  must  be  handled  in  detail,  if  at  all.  She  is 
bitter  in  the  feeling  of  wrong  done  her  somewhere, 
bitter  to  hatred;  what  can,  not  you,  but  I,  do  for 
her,  to  help  her  out  of  it." 

"I  should  say,  that  is  the  duke  of  Trefoil's 
business." 

"  I  leave  his  business  to  him.     What  is  mine  ?  " 


THE  DUKE  OF  TREFOIL.  571 

"You  have  done  something  already,  I  can  see, 
for  she  makes  an  exception  of  you." 

"  I  have  not  done  much,"  said  Pitt  gravely. 
"  What  do  you  think  it  was?  Her  boy  was  ill;  he 
had  met  with  an  accident,  and  was  a  thin,  pale, 
wasted-looking  child  when  I  first  saw  them.  I 
took  him  a  rosebush,  in  full  flower." 

"  Were  they  so  glad  of  it  ?  " 

Pitt  was  silent  a  minute. 

"  It  was  about  as  much  as  I  could  stand,  to  see 
it.  Then  I  got  the  child  some  things  that  he  could 
eat.  He  is  well  now;  as  well  as  he  ever  will  be." 

"I  did  not  see  the  rosebush." 

"Ah,  it  did  not  live.     Nothing  could  there." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Pitt,  haven't  you  done  your  part,  as 
far  as  this  case  is  concerned  ?  " 

"  Have  I  ?     Would  you  stop  with  that  ?  " 

Betty  sat  very  quiet,  but  internally  fidgetted. 
What  did  Pitt  ask  her  these  questions  for  ?  Why 
had  he  taken  her  on  this  expedition  ?  She  wished 
she  had  not  gone;  she  wished  she  had  not  come 
to  England;  and  yet  she  would  not  be  anywhere 
else  at  this  moment  but  where  she  was,  for  any 
possible  consideration.  She  wished  Pitt  would  be 
different  and  not  fill  his  head  with  lace-menders  and 
London  alleys ;  and  yet — even  so, — things  might  be 
worse.  Suppose  Pitt  had  devoted  his  energies  to 
gambling,  and  absorbed  all  his  interests  in  hunters 
and  racers.  Betty  had  known  that  sort  of  thing; 
and  now  summarily  concluded  that  men  must  make 
themselves  troublesome  in  one  way  or  another. 


572  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

But  this  particular  turn  this  man  had  taken  did 
seem  to  set  him  so  far  off  from  her  ! 

"  What  would  you  do,  Mr.  Pitt  ?  "  she  said,  with 
a  somewhat  weary  cadence  in  her  voice  which  he 
could  not  interpret. 

"  Look  at  it,  and  tell  me,  from  your  standpoint." 

"  If  you  took  that  woman  out  of  those  lodgings, 
there  would  come  somebody  else  into  them,  and 
you  might  begin  the  whole  thing  over  again.  In 
that  way  the  duke  of  Trefoil  might  give  you  enough 
to  do  for  a  lifetime." 

«  Well  ?— the  conclusion  ?  "— 

"How  can  you  ask?  Some  things  are  self- 
evident." 

"  What  do  you  think  that  means — '  He  that  hath 
two  coats,  let  him  impart  to  him  that  hath  none '  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  it  means  that"  said  Betty.  "  That 
you  are  to  give  away  all  you  have,  till  you  haven't 
left  yourself  an  overcoat." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  Not  if  somebody  else  needed 
it  more  ?  That  is  the  question.  We  come  back 
to  the — 'Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should 
do  unto  you.'  *  Heal  the  sick,  cleanse  the  lepers, 
raise  the  dead,  cast  out  devils.'  How,  do  you  think, 
can  I  best  do  that  in  the  case  of  Mrs.  Mills  and 
her  boy  ?  One  thing  at  a  time.  Never  mind 
what  the  duke  of  Trefoil  may  complicate  in  the 
future." 

"Raise  the  dead  !  "  Betty  echoed. 

"  Ay,"  he  said.  "  There  are  worse  deaths  than 
that  of  the  body." 


THE  DUKE  OF  TREFOIL.  573 

Betty  paused,  but  Pitt  waited. 

"  If  they  are  to  be  kept  alive  in  any  sense,"  she 
said  at  last,  "they  must  be  taken  out  of  that  hole 
where  they  are  now." 

"  And,  as  you  truly  suggest  that  the  number  of 
persons  wanting  such  relief  is  unlimited,  the  first 
thing  to  be  done  is  to  build  proper  houses  for  the 
poor.  That  is  what  I  have  set  about." 

"  Ton  have  !— "  cried  Betty. 

"  I  cannot  do  much.  True,  but  that  is  nothing 
whatever  to  the  question.  I  have  begun  to  put  up 
a  few  houses,  which  shall  be  comfortable,  easy  to 
keep  clean,  and  rentable  for  what  the  industrious 
poor  can  afford  to  pay.  That  will  give  sufficient 
interest  for  the  capital  expended  and  even  allow 
me,  without  further  outlay,  to  go  on  extending  my 
accommodations.  Mrs.  Mills  will  move  into  the 
first  of  my  new  houses,  I  hope,  next  month." 

"  What  have  you  taken  me  all  this  day's  expe 
dition  for,  Mr.  Dallas?"  Betty  asked  suddenly. 
The  pain  of  the  thing  was  pressing  her. 

"  You  remember,  you  asked  a  question  of  me ; 
to  wit,  whether  I  were  minded  still  as  I  seemed  to 
be  minded  last  year.  I  have  shewed  you  a  fraction 
of  the  reasons  why  I  should  not  have  changed,  and 
you  have  approved  them." 

Betty  found  nothing  to  answer;  it  was  difficult 
not  to  approve  them,  and  yet  she  hated  the 
conclusion.  The  conversation  was  not  resumed 
immediately.  All  the  quiet  beauty  of  the  scene 
around  them  spoke,  to  Betty,  for  a  life  of  ease  and 


574  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

luxury ;  it  seemed  to  say,  keep  at  a  distance  from 
disagreeable  things ;  if  want  and  squalor  are  in  the 
world,  you  belong  to  a  different  part  of  the  world ; 
let  London  be  London,  you  stay  in  Kensington 
gardens.  Take  the  good  of  your  advantages,  and 
enjoy  them.  That  this  was  the  noblest  view  or  the 
justest  conclusion,  she  would  not  say  to  herself; 
but  it  was  the  view  in  which  she  had  been  brought 
up;  and  the  leopard's  spots,  we  know,  are  persist 
ent.  Pitt  had  been  brought  up  so  too;  what  a 
tangent  he  had  taken  from  the  even  round  of  so 
ciety  in  general !  Not  to  be  brought  back  ? 

"  I  see,"  she  began  after  a  while,  "  from  my  win 
dow  at  your  house  I  see  at  some  distance  what 
looks  like  a  large  and  fine  mansion ;  amongst  trees 
and  pleasure  grounds;  whose  is  it?  " 

"That  is  Holland  House." 

"  Holland  House !  It  looks  very  handsome  out 
side." 

"It  is  one  of  the  finest  houses  about  London. 
And  it  is  better  inside  than  outside." 

"You  have  been  inside  ?  " 

"  A  number  of  times.  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  take 
you  in ;  but  it  is  not  open  to  strangers." 

"  How  did  you  get  in  ?  " 

"  With  my  uncle." 

"  Holland  House !  I  have  heard  that  the  society 
there  is  very  fine." 

"  It  has  the  best  society  of  any  house  in  London ; 
and  that  is  the  same,  I  suppose,  as  to  say,  any 
house  in  the  world." 


THE  DUKE  OF  TREFOIL.  575 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know  that  by  experience  ?  " 

"Yes;  its  positive,  not  its  relative  character," 
he  said  smiling. 

"  But  you —  However,  I  suppose  you  pass  for  an 
Englishman." 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  seen  Americans  there.  My 
late  uncle,  Mr.  Strahan,  was  a  very  uncommon  man, 
full  of  rare  knowledge,  and  very  highly  regarded 
by  those  who  knew  him.  Lord  Holland  was  a 
great  friend  of  his  and  he  was  always  welcomed 
at  Holland  House.  I  slipped  in  under  his  wing." 

"Then  since  Mr.  Strahan's  death  you  do  not  go 
there  any  more  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  there.  Lord  Holland  is  one 
of  the  most  kindly  men  in  the  kingdom,  and  he 
has  not  withdrawn  the  kindness  he  shewed  me  as 
Mr.  Strahan's  nephew  and  favourite." 

"  If  you  go  there,  you  must  go  into  a  great  deal 
of  London  society,"  said  Betty  wondering.  "  I  am 
afraid  you  have  been  staying  at  home  for  our  sakes. 
Mrs.  Dallas  would  not  like  that," 

"No,"  said  Pitt,  "the  case  is  not  such.  Once 
in  a  while  I  have  gone  to  Holland  House,  but  I  have 
not  time  for  general  society." 

"Not  time!" 

"No,"  said  Pitt  smiling  at  her  expression. 

"  Not  time  for  society  !  That  is — is  it  possibly 
—because  of  Martin's  court  and  the  duke  of  Tre 
foil's  alley,  and  the  like  ? 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  said  Pitt,  his  eyes  spark 
ling  with  amusement.  "There  is  society  and  so- 


576  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

ciety,  you  know.  Can  you  drink  from  two  opposite 
sides  of  a  cup  at  the  same  time  ?  " 

"  But  one  has  duties  to  Society !  "  objected  Betty, 
bewildered  somewhat  by  the  argument  and  the 
smile  together. 

"  So  I  think,  and  I  am  trying  to  meet  them.  Do 
not  mistake  me.  I  do  not  mean  to  undervalue  real 
society.  I  will  take  gladly  all  I  can  that  will  give 
me  mental  stimulus  and  refreshment.  But  the 
round  of  fashion  is  somewhat  more  vapid  than  ever, 
I  grant  you,  after  a  visit  to  my  lace-mender.  Those 
two  things  cannot  go  on  together.  Shall  we  walk 
home  ?  It  is  not  v.ery  far  from  here.  I  am  afraid 
I  have  tired  you ! " 

Betty  denied  that;  but  she  walked  home  very 
silently. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE    ABBEY. 

THIS  interruption  of  the  pleasure  sights  was 
alone  in  its  kind.  Pitt  let  the  subject  that 
day  so  thoroughly  handled  thenceforth  drift  out  of 
sight;  he  referred  to  it  no  more;  and  continually, 
day  after  day,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  care  of 
providing  new  entertainment  for  his  guests.  Drives 
into  the  country,  parties  on  the  river,  visits  to  grand 
places,  to  picture  galleries,  to  curiosities,  to  the 
British  Museum,  alternated  with  and  succeeded 
each  other.  Pitt  seemed  untireable.  Mrs.  Dallas 
was  in  a  high  state  of  contentment,  trusting  that 
all  things  were  going  well  for  her  hopes  concerning 
her  son  and  Miss  Frere;  but  Betty  herself  was  go 
ing  through  an  experience  of  infinite  pain.  It  was 
impossible  not  to  enjoy  at  the  moment  these  enjoy 
able  things;  the  life  at  Pitt's  old  Kensington  house 
was  like  a  fairy  tale  for  strangeness  and  prettiness; 
but  Betty  was  living  now  under  a  clear  impression 
of  the  fact  that  it  was  a  fairy  tale,  and  that  she 
must  presently  walk  out  of  it.  And  gradually  the 
desire  grew  uppermost  with  her  to  walk  out  of  it 

(577) 


578  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

soon,  while  she  could  do  so  with  grace  and  of  her 
own  accord.  The  pretty  house  which  she  had  so 
delighted  in  began  to  oppress  her.  She  woulgl 
presently  be  away,  and  have  no -more  to  do  with 
it;  and  somebody  else  would  be  brought  there  to 
reign  and  enjoy  as  mistress.  It  tormented  Betty, 
that  thought.  Somebody  else  would  come  there, 
would  have  a  right  there;  would  be  cherished  and 
cared  for  and  honoured,  and  have  the  privilege  of 
standing  by  Pitt  in  his  works  and  plans,  helping 
him,  arid  sympathizing  with  him.  A  floating  im 
age  of  a  fair,  stately  woman,  with  speaking  grey 
eyes  and  a  wonderful  pure  face,  would  come  before 
her  when  she  thought  of  these  things,  though  she 
told  herself  it  was  little  likely  that  she  would  be 
the  one;  yet  Betty  could  think  of  no  other,  and  al 
most  felt  superstitiously  sure  at  last  that  Esther 
it  would  be,  in  spite  of  everything.  Esther  it 
would  be,  she  was  almost  sure,  if  she,  Betty,  spoke 
one  little  word  of  information ;  would  she  have  done 
well  to  speak  it  ?  Now  it  was  too  late. 

"I  think,  Mrs.  Dallas,"  she  began  one  day,  UI 
cannot  stay  much  longer  with  you.  Probably  you 
and  Mr.  Dallas  may  make  up  your  minds  to  remain 
here  all  the  winter ;  I  should  think  you  would.  If 
I  can  hear  of  somebody  going  home  that  I  know, 
I  will  go,  while  the  season  is  good." 

Mrs.  Dallas  roused  up,  and  objected  vehemently. 
Betty  persisted. 

"  I  am  in  a  false  position  here,"  she  said.  "  It 
was  all  very  well  at  first;  things  came  about  nat- 


THE  ABBEY.  579 

urally  and  it  could  not  be  helped;  and  I  am  sure  I 
have  enjoyed  it  exceedingly;  but  dear  Mrs.  Dallas, 
I  cannot  stay  here  always,  you  know.  I  am 
ashamed  to  remember  how  long  it  is  already." 

"  My  dear,  I  am  sure  my  son  is  delighted  to  have 
you,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  looking  at  her. 

''He  is  not  delighted  at  all,"  said  Betty,  half 
laughing.  Poor  girl,  she  was  not  in  the  least 
light-hearted;  bitterness  can  laugh  as  easily  as 
pleasure  sometimes.  "  He  is  a  very  kind  friend, 
and  a  perfect  host;  but  there  is  no  reason  why  he 
should  care  about  my  coming  or  going,  you  know." 

"  Everybody  must  care  to  have  you  come,  and 
be  sorry  to  have  you  go,  Betty." 

"'Everybody'  is  a  general  term,  ma'am,  and 
always  leaves  room  for  important  exceptions,  i 
shall  have  his  respect,  and  my  own  too,  better  if  I 
go  now." 

"  My  dear,  I  cannot  have  you !  "  said  Mrs.  Dallas 
uneasily,  but  afraid  to  ask  a  question.  "No,  we 
shall  not  stay  here  for  the  winter.  Wait  a  little 
longer,  Betty,  and  we  will  take  you  down  into  the 
country  and  make  the  tour  of  England.  It  is  more 
beautiful  than  you  can  conceive.  Wait  till  we  have 
seen  Westminster  Abbey;  and  then  we  will  go. 
You  can  grant  me  that,  my  dear?" 

Betty  did  not  know  how  to  refuse. 

"  Has  Pitt  got  over  his  extravagancies  of  last 
year  ?  "  the  older  lady  ventured  after  a  pause. 

"I  do  not  think  he  gets  over  anything,"  said 
Betty  with  inward  bitter  assurance. 


580  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

The  day  came  that  had  been  fixed  for  a  visit  to 
the  Abbey.  Pitt  had  not  been  eager  to  take  them 
there;  had  rather  put  it  off.  Pie  told  his  mother 
that  one  visit  to  Westminster  Abbey  was  nothing; 
that  two  visits  were  nothing;  that  a  long  time  and 
many  hours  spent  in  study  and  enjoyment  of  the 
place  were  necessary  before  one  could  so  much 
as  begin  to  know  Westminster  Abbey.  But  Mrs. 
Dallas  had  declared  she  did  not  want  to  know  it; 
she  only  desired  to  see  it  and  see  the  monuments; 
and  what  could  be  answered  to  that  ?  So  the  visit 
was  agreed  upon  and  fixed  for  this  day. 

"You  did  not  want  to  bring  us  here,  because 
you  thought  we  would  not  appreciate  it  ?  "  Betty 
said  to  Pitt  in  an  aside,  as  they  were  about  en 
tering. 

"  Nobody  can  appreciate  it  who  takes  it  lightly," 
he  answered. 

That  day  remained  fixed  in  Betty's  memory  for 
ever,  with  all  its  details,  sharp  cut  in.  The  mo 
ment  they  entered  the  building  the  greatness  and 
beauty  of  the  place  seemed  to  overshadow  her,  and 
roused  up  all  the  higher  part  of  her  nature.  With 
that,  it  stirred  into  keen  life  the  feeling  of  being 
shut  out  from  the  life  she  wanted.  The  Abbey, 
with  the  rest  of  all  the  wonders  and  antiquities 
and  rich  beauties  of  the  city,  belonged  to  the  accesso 
ries  of  Pitt's  position  and  home;  belonged  so  in  a 
sort  to  him ;  and  the  sense  of  the  beauty  which  she 
could  not  but  feel  met  in  the  girl's  heart  with  the 
pain  which  she  could  not  bid  away,  and  the  one 


THE  ABBEY.  581 

heightened  the  other;  after  the  strange  fashion  that 
pain  and  pleasure  have  of  sharpening  each  other's 
powers.  Betty  took  in  with  an  intensity  of  per 
ception  all  the  riches  of  the  Abbey  that  she  was 
capable  of  understanding;  and  her  capacity  in  that 
way  was  far  beyond  the  common.  She  never  in 
her  life  had  been  quicker  of  appreciation.  The 
taste  of  beauty  and  the  delight  of  curiosity  were  at 
times  exquisite;  never  failing  to  meet  and  heighten 
that  underlying  pain  which  had  so  moved  her 
whole  nature  to  sentient  life.  For  the  common 
place  and  the  indifferent  she  had  to-day  no  toler 
ation  at  all;  they  were  regarded  with  impatient 
loathing.  Accordingly  the  progress  round  the  Poet's 
corner,  which  Mrs.  Dallas  would  make  slowly,  was 
to  Betty  almost  intolerable.  She  must  go  as  the 
rest  went,  but  she  went  making  silent  protest. 

"  You  do  not  care  for  the  poets,  Miss  Betty,"  re 
marked  Mr.  Dallas  jocosely. 

"  I  see  here  very  few  names  of  poets  that  I  care 
about,"  she  responded.  "  To  judge  by  the  rest,  I 
should  say  it  was  about  as  much  of  an  honour  to 
be  left  out  of  Westminster  Abbey  as  to  be  put  in." 

"  Fie,  fie,  Miss  Betty !  what  heresy  is  here ! 
Westminster  Abbey?  why  it  is  the  one  last  desire 
of  ambition." 

"  I  am  beginning  to  think  ambition  is  rather  an 
empty  thing,  sir." 

"  See,  here  is  Butler.     Don't  you  read  Hudibras?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"You  should.     It's  very  clever.     Then  here  is 


582  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

Spenser,  next  to  him.  You  are  devoted  to  the 
Faerie  Queene,  of  course  !  " 

"  I  never  read  it." 

"  You  might  do  worse,"  remarked  Pitt,  who  was 
just  before  them  with  his  mother. 

"Does  anybody  read  Spenser  now?" 

"  It  is  a  poor  sign  for  the  world  if  they  do  not." 

"  One  cannot  read  everything,"  said  Betty.  "  I 
read  Shakspeare;  I  am  glad  to  see  his  monument." 

It  was  a  relief  to  pass  on  at  last  from  the  crowd 
of  literary  folk  into  the  nobler  parts  of  the  Abbey; 
and  yet,  as  the  impression  of  its  wonderful  beauty 
and  solemn  majesty  first  fully  came  upon  Miss 
Frere,  it  was  oddly  accompanied  by  an  instant 
jealous  pang.  *  'He  will  bring  somebody  else  here 
some  day,  who  will  come  as  often  as  she  likes; — 
be  at  home  here; — and  enjoy  the  Abbey  as  if  it 
were  her  own  property."  And  Betty  wished  she 
had  never  come;  and  in  the  same  inconsistent 
breath  was  exceedingly  rejoiced  that  she  had  come. 
Yes,  she  would  take  all  of  the  beauty  in  that  she 
could;  take  it  and  keep  it  in  her  memory  for  ever; 
taste  it  while  she  had  it,  and  live  on  the  after  taste 
for  the  rest  of  her  life.  But  the  taste  of  it  was  at 
the  moment  sharp  with  pain. 

Pitt  had  procured  from  one  of  the  canons  who 
had  been  his  uncle's  friend,  an  order  which  per 
mitted  them  to  go  their  own  way  and  take  their 
own  time,  unaccompanied  and  untrammelled  by 
vergers.  No  showman  was  necessary  in  Pitt's  pres 
ence;  he  could  tell  them  all,  and  much  more  than 


THE  ABBEY.  583 

they  cared  about  knowing.  Mrs.  Dallas  indeed 
cared  for  little  beyond  the  tokens  of  England's  an 
tiquity  and  glory;  her  interest  was  mostly  expended 
on  the  royal  tombs  and  thoss  connected  with  them. 
For  was  riot  Pitt  now,  virtually,  one  of  the  favoured 
nation?  by  habit  and  connection  as  well  as  in 
blood  ?  and  did  not  England's  greatness  send  down 
a  reflected  light  on  all  her  sons? — only  poetical 
justice,  as  it  was  earlier  sons  who  had  made  the 
greatness.  But  of  that  Mrs.  Dallas  did  not  think. 
"  England "  was  an  abstract  idea  of  majesty  and 
power,  embodied  in  a  land  and  a  government;  and 
Westminster  Abbey  was  in  a  sort  the  record  and 
visible  token  of  the  same,  and  testimony  of  it,  in 
the  face  of  all  the  world.  So  Mrs.  Dallas  enjoyed 
Westminster  Abbey,  and  her  heart  swelled  in  con 
templation  of  its  glories;  but  its  real  glories  she 
saw  not.  Lights  and  shadows,  colouring,  forms  of 
beauty,  associations  of  tenderness,  majesties  of  age, 
had  ail  no  existence  for  her.  The  one  feeling  in 
exercise,  which  took  its  nourishment  from  all  she 
looked  upon,  was  pride.  But  pride  is  a  dull  kind  of 
gratification;  and  the  good  lady's  progress  through 
the  Abbey  could  not  be  called  satisfactory  to  one 
who  knew  the  place. 

Mr.  Dallas  was  neither  proud  nor  pleased.  He 
was  however  an  Englishman,  and  Westminster 
Abbey  was  intensely  English,  and  to  go  through 
and  look  at  it  was  the  right  thing  to  do;  so  he 
went;  doing  his  duty. 

And  beside  these  two   went  another  bit  of  hu- 


584  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

inanity,  all  alive  and  quivering,  intensely  sensitive 
to  every  impression,  which  must  needs  be  more  or 
less  an  impression  of  suffering.  •  Her  folly,  she  told 
herself,  it  was  which  had  so  stripped  her  of  her  natural 
defences  and  exposed  her  to  suffering.  The  one 
only  comfort  left  was,  that  nobody  knew  it;  and 
nobody  should  know  it.  The  practice  of  society 
had  given  her  command  over  herself,  and  she  exerted 
it  that  day;  all  she  had. 

They  were  making  the  tour  of  St.  Edmund's 
chapel. 

"  Look  here,  Betty,"  cried  Mrs.  Dallas,  who  was 
still  a  little  apart  from  the  others  with  her  son, — 
"come  here  and  see  this!  Look  here — the  tomb 
of  two  little  children  of  Edward  the  Third!" 

"After  going  over  some  of  the  other  records, 
ma'am,.!  can  but  call  them  happy  to  have  died  little." 

"But  isn't  it  interesting?  Pitt  tells  me  there 
were  six  of  the  little  princess's  brothers  and  sisters 
that  stood  here  at  her  funeral,  the  Black  Prince 
among  them.  Just  think  of  it!  Around  this  tomb!" 

"  Why  should  it  be  more  interesting  to  us  than 
any  similar  gathering  of  common  people  ?  There 
is  many  a  spot  in  country  graveyards  at  home 
where  more  than  six  members  of  a  family  have 
stood  together." 

"  But  my  dear ! — These  were  Edward  the  Third's 
children." 

"Yes.  He  was  something  when  he  was  alive; 
but  what  is  he  to  us  now?  And  why  should  we 
care,"  Betty  hastily  went  on  to  generalities,  seeing 


THE  ABBEY.  585 

the  astonishment  in  Mrs.  Dallas's  face, — "  why 
should  we  be  more  interested  in  the  monuments 
and  deaths  of  the  great,  than  in  those  of  lesser 
people?  In  death  and  bereavement  all  come  down 
to  a  common  humanity." 

"  Not  a  common  humanity ! "  said  Mrs.  Dallas, 
rather  staring  at  Betty. 

"All  are  alike  on  the  other  side,  mother,"  observed 
Pitt.  •"  The  king's  daughter  and  the  little  village 
girl  stand  on  the  same  footing,  when  once  they 
have  left  this  state  of  things.  There  is  only  one 
nobility  that  can  make  any  difference  then." 

"'One  nobility'" — repeated  Mrs.  Dallas,  bewil 
dered. 

"  You  remember  the  words — *  Whosoever  shall 
do  the  will  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven,  the 
same  is  my  mother,  and  my  sister,  and  brother.'  The 
village  girl  will  often  turn  out  to  be  the  daughter 
of  the  King  then." 

"But  you  do  not  think,  do  you,"  said  Betty, 
*'  that  all  that  one  has  gained  in  this  life  will  be 
lost,  or  go  for  nothing  ?  Education — knowledge — 
refinement, — all  that  makes  one  man,  or  woman, 
really  greater  and  nobler  and  richer  than  another, — 
will  that  be  all  as  though  it  had  not  been? — no 
advantage  ?  " 

"  What  we  know  of  the  human  mind  forbids  us  to 
think  so.  Also,  the  analogy  of  God's  dealings  forbids 
it.  The  child  and  the  fully  developed  philosopher 
do  not  enter  the  other  world  on  an  intellectual 
level ;  we  cannot  suppose  it.  But,  all  the  gain  on 


A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

the  one  side  will  go  to  heighten  his  glory  or  to 
deepen  his  shame,  according  to  the  fact  of  his  hav 
ing  been  a  servant  of  God  or  no." 

u  I  don't  know  where  you  are  getting  to  !  "  said 
Mrs.  Dallas  a  little  vexedly. 

"  If  we  are  to  proceed  at  this  rate,"  suggested 
her  husband,  "  we  may  as  well  get  leave  to  spend 
all  the  working  days  of  a  month  in  the  Abbey."  It 
will  take  us  all  that." 

"After  all,"  said  Betty  as  they  moved,  "you  did 
not  explain  why  we  should  be  so  much  more  in 
terested  in  this  tomb  of  Ed  ward  the  Third's  children 
than  in  that  of  any  farmer's  family  ?  " 

"My  dear, "said  Mrs.  Dallas,  "I  am  astonished 
to  hear  you  speak  so.  Are  not  you  interested  ?  " 

"Yes  ma'am;  but  why  should  I  be?  For  really, 
often  the  farmer's  family  is  the  more  respectable  of 
the  two." 

"  Are  you  such  a  republican,  Betty  ?  I  did  not 
know  it." 

"There  is  a  reason,  though,"  said  Pitt  repressing 
a  smile,  "  which  even  a  republican  may  allow.  The 
contrast  here  is  greater.  The  glory  and  pomp  of 
earthly  power  is  here  brought  into  sharp  contact 

with  the  nothingness  of  it,  So  much  yesterday, 

so  little  to-day.  Those  uplifted  hands  in  prayer 
are  exceedingly  touching,  when  one  remembers 
that  all  their  mightiness  has  come  down  to 
that !  " 

"It  is  not  every  fool  that  thinks  so,"  remarked 
Mr.  Dallas  ambiguously. 


THE  ABBEY.  587 

"No,"  said  Betty  with  a  sudden  impulse  of  cham 
pionship, — "  fools  do  not  think  at  all." 

"Here  is  a  tablet  to  Lady  Knollys,"  said  Pitt, 
moving  on.  "She  was  a  niece  of  Arine  Boleyn,  and 
waited  upon  her  to  the  scaffold." 

"But  that  is  only  a  tablet,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas. 
"  Who  is  this,  Pitt  ?  "  She  was  standing  before  an 
effigy  that  bore  a  coronet;  Betty  beside  her. 

"That  is  the  duchess  of  Suffolk;  the  mother  of 
Lady  Jane  Grey." 

"I  see,"  said  Betty,  "that  the  Abbey  is  the  com 
plement  of  the  Tower.  Her  daughter  and  her  hus 
band  lie  there,  under  the  pavement  of  the  chapel. 
How  comes  she  to  be  here  ?  " 

"  Her  funeral  was  after  Elizabeth  came  to  the 
throne.  But  she  had  been  in  miserable  circum 
stances,  poor  woman,  before  that." 

"  I  wonder  she  lived  at  all !  "  said  Betty,  "  after 
losing  husband  and  daughter  in  that  fashion.  But 
people  do  bear  a  great  deal  and  live  through  it ! " 

Which  words  had  an  application  quite  private  to 
the  speaker,  and  which  no  one  suspected.  And 
while  the  party  were  studying  the  details  of  the 
tomb  of  John  of  Eltham,  Pitt  explaining  and  the 
others  trying  to  take  it  in,  Betty  stood  by  with  pas 
sionate  thoughts.  They  do  not  care,  she  said  to 
herself;  but  he  will  bring  some  one  else  here,  some 
day,  who  will  care;  arid  they  will  come  and  come 
to  the  Abbey,  and  delight  themselves  in  its  glories, 
—and  in  each  other, — alternately.  What  do  I  here? 
and  what  is  the  English  Abbey  to  me  ?  " 


588  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

She  shewed  no  want  of  interest,  however,  and  no 
wandering  of  thought;  on  the  contrary,  an  intelli 
gent,  thoughtful,  gracious  attention  to  everything 
she  saw  and  everything  she  heard.  Her  words, 
she  knew,  though  she  could  not  help  it,  were  now 
and  then  flavoured  with  bitterness. 

In  the  next  chapel  Mrs.  Dallas  heard  with  much 
sympathy  and  wonder  the  account  of  Catharine  of 
Valois  and  her  remains. 

"  I  don't  think  she  ought  to  lie  in  the  vault  of 
Sir  George  Villiers,  if  he  was  father  of  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham,"  she  exclaimed. 

"That  duke  of  Buckingham  had  more  honour 
than  belonged  to  him,  in  life  and  in  death,"  said 
Betty. 

"  It  does  not  make  much  difference  now/'  said  Pitt. 

They  went  on  to  the  chapel  of  Henry  the  Seventh. 
And  here,  and  on  the  way  thither,  Betty  almost  for 
a  while  forgot  her  troubles  in  the  exceeding  majesty 
and  beauty  of  the  place.  The  power  of  very  exquis 
ite  beauty,  which  always  and  in  all  forms  testifies 
to  another  world  where  its  source  and  its  realization 
are,  came  down  upon  her  spirit,  and  hushed  it  as 
with  a  breath  of  balm ;  and  the  littleness  of  this 
life,  of  any  one  individual's  life,  in  the  midst  of  the 
efforts  here  made  to  deny  it,  stood  forth  in  most 
impressive  iteration.  Betty  was  awed  and  quieted, 
for  a  minute.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas  were  moved 
differently. 

"  And  this  was  Henry  the  Seventh's  work !  "  ex 
claimed  Mr.  Dallas,  making  an  effort  to  see  all 


THE  ABBEY.  589 

round  him  at  once.  "Well,  I  didn't  know  they 
could  build  so  well  in  those  old  times.  Let  us  see; 
when  was  he  buried  ? — 1509  ?  That  is  pretty  long 
ago.  This  is  a  beautiful  building  !  And  that  is 
his  tomb,  eh?  I  should  say,  this  is  better  than 
anything  he  had  in  his  lifetime.  Being  king  of 
England  was  not  just  so  easy  to  him  as  his  son 
found  it.  Crowns  are  heavy  in  the  best  of  times; 
and  his  was  specially." 

"  It  is  a  strange  ambition,  though,  to  be  glorified 
so  in  one's  funeral  monument,"  said  Betty. 

"A  very  common  ambition,"  remarked  Pitt. 
"But  this  chapel  was  to  be  much  more  than  a 
monument.  It  was  a  chantry.  The  king  ordered 
ten  thousand  masses  to  be  said  here  for  the  repose 
of  his  soul;  and  intended  that  the  monkish  estab 
lishment  should  remain  for  ever  to  attend  to  them. 
Here  around  his  tomb  you  see  the  king's  particular 
patron  saints, — nine  of  them, — to  whom  he  looked 
for  help  in  time  of  need;  all  over  the  chapel  you 
will  find  the  four  national  saints,  if  I  may  so  call 
them,  of  the  kingdom ;  and  at  the  end  there,  is  the 
Virgin  Mary,  with  Peter  and  Paul  and  other  saints 
and  angels  innumerable.  The  whole  chapel  is  like 
those  touching  folded  hands  of  stone  we  were 
speaking  of, — a  continual  appeal,  through  human 
and  angelic  mediation ;  fixed  in  stone;  though  at  the 
beginning  also  living  in  the  chants  of  the  monks." 

"  Well,  I  am  sure  that  is  being  religious  ! "  said 
Mrs.  Dallas.  "  If  such  a  place  as  this  does  not 
honour  religion,  I  don't  know  what  does." 


590  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Mother,  Christ  said,  '/am  the  door.'  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  but  is  not  all  this  an  appeal  to 
him  ?  " 

"  Mother,  he  said,  '  He  that  believeth  on  me  hath 
everlasting  life.'  What  have  saints  and  angels  to 
do  with  it  ?  '  He  that  Mievetti  "— . 

"  Surely  the  builder  of  all  this  must  have  be 
lieved,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  "  or  he  would  never  have 
spent  so  much  money  and  taken  so  much  pains 
about  it." 

"  If  he  had  believed  on  Christ,  mother,  he  would 
have  known  he  had  no  need.  Think  of  those  ten 
thousand  masses  to  be  said  for  him,  that  his  sins 
might  be  forgiven  and  his  soul  received  into  heaven ; 
you  see  how  miserably  uncertain  the  poor  king  felt 
of  ever  getting  there." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  "  every  one  must  feel 
uncertain  !  He  cannot  know — how  can  he  know  ?  " 

"  How  can  he  live  and  not  know  ?  "  Pitt  answered 
in  a  lowered  tone.  "Uncertainty  on  that  point 
would  be  enough  to  drive  a  thinking  man  mad. 
Henry  the  Seventh,  you  see,  could  not  bear  it,  and 
so  he  arranged  to  have  ten  thousand  masses  said 
for  him;  and  filled  his  chapel  with  intercessory 
saints." 

"  But  I  do  not  see  how  any  one  is  to  have  cer 
tainty,  Mr.  Pitt,"  Betty  said.  "One  cannot  see 
into  the  future." 

"  It  is  only  necessary  to  believe,  in  the  present." 

"Believe  what?" 

"  The  word  of  the  King,  who  promised, — *  Who- 


THE  ABBEY.  591 

soever  liveth  and  believeth  in  me  shall  never 
die'  The  love  that  came  down  here  to  die  for 
us,  will  never  let  slip  any  poor  creature  that 
trusts  it." 

"  Yes,  but  suppose  one  cannot  trust  so  ?  "  objected 
,Betty. 

"  Then  there  is  probably  a  reason  for  it.  Diso 
bedience,  even  partial  disobedience,  can  not  perfectly 
trust," 

"  How  can  sinful  creatures  do  anything  perfectly, 
Pitt?"  his  mother  asked  almost  angrily. 

"Mamma,"  said  he  gravely,  "you  trust  me  so." 

Mrs.  Dallas  made  no  reply  to  that;  and  they 
moved  on,  surveying  the  chapels.  The  good  lady 
bowed  her  head  in  solemn  approbation  when  shewn 
the  place  whence  the  bodies  of  Cromwell  and  others 
of  his  family  and  friends  were  cast  out  after  the 
Restoration.  "They  had  no  business  to  be  there," 
she  assented. 

"  Where  were  they  removed  to  ?  "  Betty  asked. 

"  Some  of  them  were  hanged,  as  they  deserved," 
said  Mr.  Dallas. 

"Cromwell,  Ireton,  and  Bradshaw,  at  Tyburn," 
Pitt  added.  "The  others  were  buried,  not  honour 
ably,  not  far  off.  One  of  Cromwell's  daughters, 
who  was  a  Churchwoman  and  also  a  royalist,  they 
allowed  to  remain  in  the  Abbey.  She  lies  in  one 
of  the  other  chapels,  over  yonder." 

"  Noble  revenge  !  "  said  Betty  quietly. 

"Very  proper,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas.  "It  seems 
hard,  but  it  is  proper.  People  who  rise  up  against 


592  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

their  kings  should  be  treated  with  dishonour,  both 
before  and  after  death." 

"  How  about  the  kings  who  rise  up  against  their 
people  ?  "  asked  Betty. 

She  could  not  help  the  question,  but  she  was  glad 
that  Mrs.  Dallas  did  not  seem  to  hear  it.  They 
passed  on,  from  one  chapel  to  another,  going  more 
rapidly;  came  to  a  pause  again  at  the  tomb  of 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scots. 

"I  am  beginning  to  think,"  said  Betty,  "that 
the  history  of  England  is  one  of  the  sorrowfullest 
things  in  the  world.  I  wonder  if  all  other  coun 
tries  are  as  bad?  Think  of  this  woman's  trouble 
some,  miserable  life;  and  now,  after  Fotheringay, 
the  honour  in  which  she  lies  in  this  temple  is  such 
a  mockery!  I  suppose  Elizabeth  is  here  some 
where  ?  " 

"  Over  there,  in  the  other  aisle.  And  below,  the 
two  Tudor  queens,  Elizabeth  and  Mary,  lie  in  a 
vault  together,  alone.  Personal  rivalries,  personal 
jealousies,  political  hatred  and  religious  enmity, 
— they  are  all  composed  now;  and  all  interests  fade 
away  before  the  one  supreme,  eternal;  they  are 
gone  where  'the  honour  that  cometh  from  God  '  is 
the  only  honour  left.  Well  for  them  if  they  have 
that! — Here  is  the  Countess  of  Kichmond,  the 
mother  of  Henry  the  Seventh.  She  was  of  kin  or 
somehow  connected,  it  is  said,  with  thirty  royal 
personages;  the  granddaughter  of  Catharine  of 
Yalois,  grandmother  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  Eliza 
beth's  great-grandmother.  She  was,  by  all  accounts, 


THE  ABBEY.  593 

a  noble  old  lady.  Now  all  that  is  left  is  these  piti 
ful  folded  hands." 

Mrs.  Dallas  passed  on,  and  they  went  from  chapel 
to  chapel,  and  from  tomb  to  tomb,  with  unflagging 
though  transient  interest.  But  for  Betty,  by  and 
by  the  brain  and  sense  seemed  to  be  oppressed  and 
confused  by  the  multitude  of  objects,  of  names  and 
stories  and  sympathies.  The  novelty  wore  off,  and 
a  feeling  of  some  weariness  supervened;  and  there 
with  the  fortunes  and  fates  of  the  great  past  fell 
more  and  more  into  the  background  and  her  own 
one  little  life-venture  absorbed  her  attention.  Even 
when  going  round  the  chapel  of  Edward  the  Con 
fessor  and  viewing  the  grand  old  tombs  of  the 
magnates  of  history  who  are  remembered  there, 
Betty  was  mostly  concerned  with  her  own  history; 
and  a  dull  bitter  feeling  filled  her.  It  was  safe  to 
indulge  it,  for  everybody  else  had  enough  beside 
to  think  of;  and  she  grew  silent. 

"  You  are  tired,"  said  Pitt  kindly,  as  they  were 
leaving  the  Confessor's  chapel,  and  his  mother  and 
father  had  gone  on  before. 

"Of  course,"  said  Betty.  "There  is  no  going 
through  the  ages  without  some  fatigue — for  a 
common  mortal." 

"  We  are  doing  too  much,"  said  Pitt.  "  The  Abbey 
cannot  be  properly  seen  in  this  way.  One  should 
take  part  at  a  time,  and  come  many  times." 

"No  chance  for  me,"  said  Betty.  "This  is  rny 
first  and  my  last."  She  looked  back  as  she  spoke 
towards  the  tombs  they  were  leaving,  and  wish- 


594  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

ed,  almost,  that  she  were  as  still  as  they.  She 
felt  her  eyes  suffusing,  and  hastily  went  on. — "  I 
shall  be  going  home,  I  expect,  in  a  few  days — as 
soon  as  I  find  an  opportunity.  I  have  staid  too 
long  now,  but  Mrs.  Dallas  has  over-persuaded  me. 
I  am  glad  I  have  had  this,  at  any  rate." 

She  was  capable  of  no  more  words  just  then,  and 
was  about  to  move  forward,  when  Pitt  by  a  motion 
of  his  hand  detained  her. 

"One  moment,—  "  said  he.  "Do  you  say  that 
you  are  thinking  of  returning  to  America  ?  " 

"  Yes.     It  is  time." 

"  I  would  beg  you,  if  I  might,  to  reconsider  that," 
he  said.  "  If  you  could  stay  with  my  mother  a 
while  longer,  it  would  be,  I  am  sure,  a  great  boon 
to  her;  for  I  am  going  away.  I  must  take  a  run 
over  to  America — I  have  business  in  New  York — 
must  be  gone  several  weeks  at  least.  Cannot  you 
stay  and  go  down  into  Westmoreland  with  her  ?  " 

It  seemed  to  Betty  that  she  became  suddenly 
cold,  all  over.  Yet  she  was  sure  there  was  no  out 
ward  manifestation  in  face  or  manner  of  what  she 
felt.  She  answered  mechanically,  indifferently, 
that  she  "  would  see " ;  and  they  went  forward  to 
rejoin  their  companions.  But  of  the  rest  of  the 
objects  that  were  shewn  them  in  the  Abbey  she 
simply  saw  nothing.  The  image  of  Esther  was 
before  her;  in  New  York,  found  by  Pitt;  in  West 
minster  Abbey,  brought  thither  by  him,  and  linger 
ing  where  her  own  feet  now  lingered;  in  the  house 
at  Kensington,  going  up  the  beautiful  staircase, 


THE  ABBEY.  595 

and  standing  before  the  cabinet  of  coins  in  the 
library.  Above  all,  found  by  Pitt  in  New  York. 
For  he  would  find  her;  perhaps  even  now  he  had 
news  o  her;  she  would  be  coming  with  hope  and 
gladness  and  honour  over  the  sea,  while  she  her 
self  would  be  returning,  crossing  the  same  sea  the 
other  way;  in  every  sense  the  other  way;  in  morti 
fication  and  despair  and  dishonour.  Not  outward 
dishonour,  and  yet  the  worst  possible;  dishonour 
in  her  own  eyes.  What  a  fool  she  had  been,  to 
meddle  in  this  business  at  all !  She  had  done  it 
with  her  eyes  open,  trusting  that  she  could  exer 
cise  her  power  upon  anybody  and  yet  remain  in 
her  own  power.  Just  the  reverse  of  that  had  come 
to  pass,  and  she  had  nobody  to  blame  but  herself. 
If  Pitt  was  leaving  his  father  and  mother  in  Eng 
land,  to  go  to  New  York,  it  could  be  on  only  one 
business.  The  game,  for  her,  was  up. 

There  were  weeks  of  torture  before  her,  she  knew; 
slow  torture;  during  which  she  must  shew  as  little 
of  what  she  felt  as  an  Indian  at  the  stake.  She 
must  be  with  Mrs.  Dallas,  and  hear  the  whole  mat 
ter  talked  of,  and  from  point  to  point  as  the  history 
went  on ;  and  must  help  talk  of  it.  For  if  Pitt  was 
going  to  New  York  now,  Betty  was  not;  that  was  a 
fixed  thing.  She  must  stay  for  the  present  where 
she  was. 

She  was  a  little  pale  and  tired,  they  said  on  the 
drive  home.  And  that  was  all  anybody  ever  knew. 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 
A  VISIT. 

PITT  sailed  for  America  in  the  early  days  of 
Autumn ;  and  September  had  not  yet  run  out 
when  he  arrived  in  New  York.  His  first  researches, 
as  on  former  occasions,  amounted  to  nothing;  and 
several  days  passed  with  no  fruit  of  his  trouble. 
The  intelligence  received  at  the  Post  Office  gave 
him  no  more  than  he  had  been  assured  of  already. 
They  believed  a  letter  did  come  occasionally  to  a 
certain  Col.  Gainsborough;  but  the  occasions  were 
not  often ;  the  letters  were  not  called  for  regularly ; 
and  the  address,  farther  than  that  it  was  "New 
York,"  was  not  known.  Pitt  was  thrown  upon  his 
own  resources,  which  narrowed  down  pretty  much 
to  observation  and  conjecture.  To  exercise  the 
former,  he  perambulated  the  streets  of  the  city ;  his 
brain  was  busy  with  the  latter  constantly,  whenever 
its  energies  were  not  devoted  to  seeing  and  hearing. 
He  roved  the  streets  in  fair  weather  and  foul, 
and  at  all  hours.  He  watched  keenly  all  the  fig 
ures  he  passed,  at  least  until  assured  they  had 

no  interest  for  him;  he  peered  into  shops;  he  re- 
(596) 


A   VISIT.  597 

viewed  equipages.  In  those  days  it  was  possible 
to  do  this  to  some  purpose,  if  a  man  were  looking 
for  somebody;  the  streets  were  not  as  now  filled 
with  a  confused  and  confusing  crowd  going  all 
ways  at  once;  and  no  policeman  was  needed,  even 
for  the  most  timid,  to' cross  Broadway  where  it  was 
busiest.  What  a  chance  there  was  then  for  the 
gay  part  of  the  world  to  shew  itself.  A  lady  would 
heave  in  sight,  like  a  ship,  in  the  distance,  and 
come  bearing  down  with  colours  flying;  one  all 
alone,  or  two  together;  having  the  whole  sidewalk 
for  themselves.  Slowly  they  would  come  and  pass, 
in  the  full  leisure  of  display,  and  disappear,  giving 
place  to  a  new  sail  just  rising  to  view.  No  such 
freedom  of  display  and  monopoly  of  admiration 
is  anywhere  possible  any  longer  in  the  city  of 
Gotham. 

Pitt  had  been  walking  the  streets  for  days,  and 
was  weary  of  watching  the  various  feminine  craft 
which  sailed  up  and  down  in  them.  None  of  them 
were  like  the  one  he  was  looking  for,  neither  could 
he  see  anything  that  looked  like  the  colonel's 
straight  slim  figure  and  soldierly  bearing.  He 
was  weary,  but  he  persevered.  A  man  in  his  po 
sition  was  not  open  to  the  charge  of  looking  for  a 
needle  in  a  haystack,  such  as  would  now  be  justly 
brought  to  him.  New  York  was  not  quite  so  large 
then  as  it  is  now.  It  is  astonishing  to  think  what 
a  little  place  it  was  in  those  days;  when  Walker 
street  was  not  yet  built  on  its  north  side,  and  there 
was  a  pond  at  the  corner  of  Canal  street,  and 


598  A   RED   WALLFLOWER. 

Chelsea  was  in  the  country.  When  the  "West 
End  "  was  at  State  street,  and  St.  George's  church 
was  in  Beekman  street,  and  Beekman  street  was 
a  place  of  fashion.  The  city  was  neither  so  dingy 
nor  so  splendid  as  it  is  now;  and  the  bright  sun 
of  our  climate  was  pouring  all  the  gold  it  could 
upon  its  roofs  and  pavements,  those  September- 
days  when  Pitt  was  trying  to  be  everywhere  and 
to  see  everything. 

One  of  those  sunny,  golden  days  he  was  saunter 
ing  as  usual  down  Broadway,  enjoying  the  clear 
aether  which  was  troubled  by  neither  smoke  nor 
cloud.  Sauntering  along  carelessly,  yet  never  for 
a  moment  forgetting  his  aim;  when  his  eye  was 
caught  by  a  figure  which  came  up  out  of  a  side 
street  and  turned  into  Broadway  just  before  him. 
Pitt  had  but  a  cursory  glance  at  the  face,  but  it 
was  enough  to  make  him  follow  the  owner  of  it. 
He  walked  behind  her  at  a  little  distance,  scruti 
nizing  the  figure.-  It  was  not  like  what  he  remem-  • 
bered  Esther.  He  had  said  to  himself  of  course 
that  Esther  must  be  grown  up  before  now;  never 
theless  the  image  in  his  mind  was  of  Esther  as  he 
had  known  her,  a  well  grown  girl  of  thirteen  or 
fourteen.  This  was  no  such  figure.  It  was  of  fair 
medium  height,  or  rather  more.  The  dress  was  as 
plain  as  possible,  yet  evidently  that  of  a  lady;  and 
as  unmistakable  was  the  carriage.  Perhaps  it  was 
that  more  than  anything  which  fixed  Pitt's  atten 
tion;  the  erect,  supple  figure,  the  easy,  gliding 
motion,  and  the  set  of  the  head.  For  among  all 


A  VISIT.  599 

the  multitude  that  walk,  a  truly  beautiful  walk  is 
a  very  rare  thing,  and  so  is  a  truly  fine  carriage. 
Pitt  could  not  take  his  eye  from  this  figure.  A 
few  swii't  strides  brought  him  near  her,  and  he 
followed,  watching;  balancing  hopes  and  doubts. 
That  was  not  Esther  as  he  remembered  her;  but 
then  years  had  gone  by;  and  was  not  that  set  of 
the  head  on  the  shoulders  precisely  Esther's  ?  He 
was  meditating  how  he  could  get  another  sight  of 
her  face ;  when  she  suddenly  turned  and  ran  up  a 
flight  of  steps  and  went  in  at  a  door,  without  ever 
giving  him  the  chance  he  wanted.  She  had  a  lit 
tle  portfolio  under  her  arm,  like  a  teacher,  and  she 
paused  to  speak  to  the  servant  who  opened  the 
door  to  her;  Pitt  judged  that  it  was  not  her  own 
house.  The  lady  was  probably  a  teacher.  Esther 
could  not  be  a  teacher.  But  at  any  rate  he  would 
wait  and  get  another  sight  of  her.  If  she  went  in, 
she  would  probably  come  out  again. 

But  Pitt  had  a  tiresome  waiting  of  an  hour.  He 
strolled  up  and  down  or  stood  still  leaning  against 
a  railing,  never  losing  that  door  out  of  his  range 
of  vision.  The  hour  seemed  three;  however  at  the 
end  of  it  the  lady  did  come  out  again,  but  just 
when  he  was  at  his  furthest,  and  she  turned  and 
went  up  the  street  again  the  way  she  had  come, 
walking  with  a  quick  step.  Pitt  followed.  Where 
she  had  turned  into  Broadway  she  turned  out  of 
it,  and  went  down  an  unattractive  side  street ;  pass 
ing  from  that  into  another  and  another,  less  and 
less  promising  with  every  corner  she  turned,  till  she 


600  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

entered  the  one  which  we  know  was  not  at  all  eli 
gible  where  Col.  Gainsborough  lived.  Pitt's  hopes 
had  been  gradually  falling,  and  now  when  the  quarry 
disappeared  from  his  sight  in  one  of  the  little  humble 
houses  which  filled  the  street,  he  for  a  moment  stood 
still.  Could  she  be  living  here  ?  He  would  have 
thought  she  had  come  merely  to  visit  some  poor  pro 
tege,  but  that  she  had  certainly  seemed  to  take  a  latch 
key  from  her  pocket  and  let  herself  in  with  it.  Pitt 
reviewed  the  place,  waited  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
went  up  himself  the  few  steps  which  led  to  that 
door,  and  knocked.  Bell  there  was  none.  People 
who  had  bells  to  their  doors  did  not  live  in  that 
street. 

But  as  soon  as  the  door  was  opened  Pitt  knew 
where  he  was;  for  he  recognized  Barker.  She  was 
not  the  one  however  with  whom  he  wished  first 
to  exchange  recognitions;  so  he  contented  him 
self  with  asking  in  an  assured  manner  for  Col. 
Gainsborough. 

"Yes,  sir,  he's  in,"  said  Barker  doubtfully;  as  he 
stood  in  the  doorway  she  could  not  see  the  visiter 
well.  "  Who  will  I  say  wants  to  see  him,  sir  ?  " 

"  A  gentleman  on  business." 

Another  minute  or  two,  and  Pitt  stood  in  the 
small  room  which  was  the  colonel's  particular 
room,  and  was  face  to  face  with  his  old  friend. 
Esther  was  not  there;  and  without  looking  at  any 
thing  Pitt  felt  in  a  moment  the  change  that  must 
have  come  over  the  fortunes  of  the  family.  The 
place  was  so  small !  There  did  not  seem  to  be  room 


A  VISIT.  601 

in  it  for  the  colonel  and  him.     But  the  colonel  was 
like  himself.     They  stood  and  faced  each  other. 

"  Have  I  changed  so  much,  colonel?  "  he  said  at 
last.  "  Do  you  not  know  me  ?  " 

"  William  Dallas  ?  "  said  the  colonel.  "  I  know 
the  voice  !  But  yes,  you  have  changed.  You  have- 
changed,  certainly.  It  is  the  difference  between 
the  boy  and  the  man.  What  else  it  is,  1  cannot 
see  in  this  light, — or  this  darkness.  It  grows  dark 
early  in  this  room.  Sit  down.  So  you  have  got 
back  at  last !  " 

The  greeting  was  not  very  cordial,  Pitt  felt. 

"  I  have  come  back,  for  a  time;  but  I  have  been 
home  repeatedly  before  this." 

"  So  I  supposed,"  said  the  colonel  drily.  "  Of 
course,  hearing  nothing  of  you,  I  could  not  be  sure 
how  it  was." 

"  I  have  looked  for  you,  sir,  every  time,  and  al 
most  everywhere." 

"  Looked  for  us  ?  Ha !  It  is  not  very  diffi 
cult  to  find  anybody,  when  you  know  where  to 
look." 

"  Pardon  me,  Colonel  Gainsborough,  that  was 
precisely  not  my  case.  I  did  not  know  where  to 
look.  I  have  been  here  for  days  now,  looking,  till 
I  was  almost  in  despair ;  only  I  knew  you  must  be 
somewhere,  and  I  would  not  despair.  I  have 
looked  for  you  in  America  and  in  England.  I 
went  down  to  Gainsborough  Manor,  to  see  if  I 
could  hear  tidings  of  you  there.  Every  time  that 
I  came  home  to  Seaforth  for  a  visit  I  took  a  week 


602  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

of  my  vacation  and  came  here  and  hunted  New 
York  for  you;  always  in  vain." 

"  The  shortest  way  would  have  been  to  ask  your 
father,"  said  the  colonel,  still  drily. 

"My  father?  I  asked  him,  and  he  could  tell  me 
nothing.  Why  did  you  not  leave  us  some  clue  by 
which  to  find  you  ?  "  ' 

"  Clue  ?  "  said  the  colonel.  "  What  do  you  mean 
by  clue?  I  have  not  hid  myself." 

"But  if  your  friends  do  not  know  where  you 
are—?  " 

"Your  father  could  have  told  you." 

"  He  did  not  know  your  address,  sir.  I  asked 
him  for  it  repeatedly." 

"  Why  did  he  not  give  it  to  you  ? "  said  the 
colonel,  throwing  up  his  head  like  a  war-horse. 

"  He  said  you  had  not  given  it  to  him." 

"  That  is  true  since  we  came  to  this  place.  I  have 
had  no  intercourse  with  Mr.  Dallas  for  a  long  time; 
not  since  we  moved  into  our  present  quarters;  and 
our  address  here  he  does  not  know,  I  suppose. 
He  ceased  writing  to  me,  and  of  course  I  ceased 
writing  to  him.  From  you  we  have  never  heard 
at  all,  since  we  came  to  New  York." 

"  But  I  wrote,  sir,"  said  Pitt  in  growing  embar 
rassment  and  bewilderment.  "  I  wrote  repeatedly." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  became  of  your  letters?" 

"  I  cannot  say.  I  wrote  letter  after  letter,  till 
getting  no  answer  I  was  obliged  to  think  it  was  in 
vain;  and  I  too  stopped  writing." 

"  Where  did  you  direct  your  letters  ?  " 


A  VISIT.  603 

"Not  to  your  address  here,  which  I  did  not 
know.  I  enclosed  them  to  my  father,  supposing 
he  did  know  it,  and  begged  him  to  forward 
them." 

"  I  never  got  them,"  said  the  colonel,  with  that 
same  dry  accentuation.  It  implied  doubt  of  some 
body  ;  and  could  Pitt  blame  him  ?  He  kept  a  morti 
fied  silence  for  a  few  minutes.  He  felt  terribly  put 
in  the  wrong,  and  undeservedly ;  and — but  he  tried 
not  to  think. 

"I  am  afraid  to  ask,  what  you  thought  of  me, 
sir?" 

"  Well,  I  confess  I  thought  it  was  not  just  like 
the  old  William  Dallas  that  I  used  to  know;  or 
rather,  not  like  the  young  William.  I  supposed 
you  had  grown  old;  and  with  age  comes  wisdom. 
That  is  the  natural  .course  of  things." 

"You  did  me  injustice,  Col.  Gainsborough." 

"  I  .am  willing  to  think  it.  But  it  is  somewhat 
difficult." 

"  Take  my  word  at  least  for  this.  I  have  never 
forgotten.  I  have  never  neglected.  I  sought  for 
you  as  long  as  possible,  arid  in  every  way  that  was 
possible,  whenever  I  was  in  this  country.  I  left  off 
writing,  but  it  was  because  writing  seemed  useless. 
I  have  come  now  in  pursuance  of  my  old  promise; 
come  on  the  mere  chance  of  finding  you;  which 
however  I  was  determined  to  do." 

"Your  promise — ?  " 

"You  surely  remember?  The  promise  I  made 
you,  that  I  would  come  to  look  for  you  when  I  was 


604  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

free,  and  if  I  was  not  so  happy  as  to  find  you,  would 
take  care  of  Esther." 

"  Well,  I  am  here  yet,"  said  the  colonel  medita 
tively.  "  I  did  not  expect  it,  but  here  I  am.  You 
are  quit  of  your  promise." 

"  I  have  not  desired  that,  sir." 

"  Well,  that  count  is  disposed  of,  and  I  am  glad 
to  see  you."  (But  Pitt  did  not  feel  the  truth  of  the 
declaration.)  "  Now  tell  me  about  yourself." 

In  response  to  which  followed  a  long  account  of 
Pitt's  past,  present,  and  future,  so  far  as  his  worldly 
affairs  and  condition  were  concerned  and  so  far  as 
his  own  plans  and  purposes  dealt  with  both.  The 
colonel  listened,  growing  more  and  more  interested; 
thawed  out  a  good  deal  in  his  manner;  yet  main 
tained  on  the  whole  an  indifferent  apartness  which 
was  not  in  accordance  with  the  old  times  and  the 
liking  he  then  certainly  cherished  for  his  young 
friend.  Pitt  could  not  help  the  feeling  thai>  Col. 
Gainsborough  wished  him  away.  It  began  to  grow 
dark,  and  he  must  bring  this  visit  to  an  end. 

"  May  I  see  Esther  ? "  he  asked,  after  a  slight 
pause  in  the  consideration  of  this  fact,  and  with  a 
change  of  tone  which  a  mother's  ear  would  have 
noted,  and  which  perhaps  Col.  Gainsborough's  was 
jealous  enough  to  note.  The  answer  had  to  be 
waited  for  a  second  or  two. 

"  Not  to-night,"  he  said  a  little  hurriedly.  "  Not 
to-night.  You  may  see  her  to-morrow." 

Pitt  could  not  understand  his  manner,  and  wont 
away  with  half  a  frown  and  half  a  smile  upon 


A   VISIT.  605 

his  face,  after  saying  that  he  would  call  in  the 
morning. 

It  had  happened  all  this  while  that  Esther  was 
busy  up  stairs,  and  so  had  not  heard  the  voices,  nor 
even  knew  that  her  father  had  a  visiter.  She  came 
down  soon  after  his  departure  to  prepare  the  tea. 
The  lamp  was  lit,  the  little  fire  kindled  for  the 
kettle,  the  table  brought  up  to  the  colonel's  couch, 
which  as  in  old  time  he  liked  to  have  so ;  and  Esther 
made  his  toast  and  served  him  with  his  cups  of  tea, 
in  just  the  old  fashion.  But  the  way  her  father 
looked  at  her  was  not  just  in  the  old  fashion.  He 
noticed  how  tall  she  had  grown, — it  was  no  longer 
the  little  Esttfer  of  Seaforth  times.  He  noticed  the 
lovely  lines  of  her  supple  figure,  as  she  knelt  before 
the  fire  with  the  toasting  fork,  and  raised  her  other 
hand  to  shield  her  face  from  the  blaze.  His  eye 
lingered  on  her  rich  hair  in  its  abundant  coils ;  on 
the  delicate  hands;  but  though  it  went  often  to 
the  face  it  as  often  glanced  away  and  did  not  dwell 
there.  Yet  it  could  not  but  come  back  again;  and 
the  colonel's  own  face  took  a  grim  set  as  he  looked. 
Oddly  enough,  he  said  never  a  word  of  the  event 
of  the  afternoon. 

"You  had  somebody  here,  papa,  a  little  while 
ago,  Barker  says?" 

-Yes." 

"Who  was  it?" 

"  Called  himself  a  gentleman  on  business." 

"  What  business,  papa?  It  is  not  often  that  busi 
ness  comes  here.  It  wasn't  anything  about  taxes? ' 


606  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"No." 

"  I've  got  all  that  ready,"  said  Esther  contentedly, 
"so  he  may  come  when  he  likes.  The  tax  man,  I 
mean.  What  business  was  this  then,  papa?" 

"  It  was  something  about  an  old  account,  my 
dear,  that  he  wanted  to  set  right.  There  had  been 
a  mistake,  it  seems." 

"Anything  to  pay?"  inquired  Esther  with  a 
little  anxiety. 

"No.     It's  all  right;  or  so  he  says." 

Esther  thought  it  was  somewhat  odd,  but  how 
ever  was  willing  to  let  the  subject  of  a  settled  ac 
count  go;  and  she  had  almost  forgotten  it,  when 
her  father  broached  a  very  different  Subject. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  to  live  in  Seaforth  again, 
Esther?" 

"Seaforth,  papa? "she  repeated,  much  wonder 
ing  at  the  question.  "No,  I  think  not.  I  loved 
Seaforth  once, — dearly ! — but  we  had  friends  there 
then;  or  we  thought  we  had.  I  do  not  think  it 
would  be  pleasant  to  be  there  now." 

"Then  what  do  you  think  of  our  going  back  to 
England  ?  You  do  not  like  this  way  of  life,  I  sup 
pose,  in  this  pitiful  place  ?  I  have  kept  you  here 
too  long !  " 

What  had  stirred  the  colonel  up  to  so  much  spec 
ulation?  Esther  hesitated. 

"  Papa, — I  know  our  friends  there  seem  very 
eager  to  have  us;  and  so  far  it  would  be  good;  but 
— if  we  went  back,  have  we  enough  to  live  upon 
and  be  independent  ?  " 


A  VISIT.  607 

"No." 

"  Then  I  would  rather  be  here.  We  are  doing 
very  nicely,  papa;  you  are  comfortable,  are  you 
not  ?  I  am  very  well  placed,  and  earning  money- 
enough  money.  Really  we  are  not  poor  any  longer. 
And  it  is  so  nice  to  be  independent !  " 

"  Not  poor ! "  said  the  colonel  between  a  groan 
and  a  growl.  "  What  do  you  call  poor  ?  For  you, 
and  for  me,  to  be  in  this  doleful  street  is  to  be  all 
that,  I  should  say." 

"  Papa,"  said  Esther,  her  lips  wreathing  into  a 
smile,  "  I  think  nobody  is  poor  who  can  live  and 
pay  his  debts.  And  we  have  no  debts  at  all." 

"  By  dint  of  hard  work  on  your  part,  and  depri 
vation  on  mine !  " 

"Papa,"  said  Esther,  the  smile  fading  away, — 
what  did  he  mean  by  deprivation? — "I  thought— 
I  hoped — you  were  comfortable  ?  " 

"Comfortable!"  groaned  and  growled  the  colonel 
again.  "  I  believe,  Esther,  you  have  forgotten  what 
comfort  means.  Or  rather,  you  never  knew.  For 
us  to  be  in  a  prison  like  this,  and  shut  out  from  the 
world  !  " 

"  Papa,  I  never  thought  you  cared  for  the  world. 
And  this  does  not  feel  like  a  prison  to  me.  I  have 
been  very  happy  here,  and  free,  and  0  so  thankful ! 
If  you  remember  how  we  were  before,  papa." 

"All  the  same,"  said  the  colonel, — "it  is  not  fit 
ting  that  those  who  are  meant  for  the  world  should 
live  out  of  it.  I  wish  I  had  taken  you  home  years 
ago.  You  see  nobody.  You  have  seen  nobody  all 


608  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

your  life  but  one  family ;  and  I  wish  you  had  never 
seen  them  ! " 

"  The  Dallases  ?     0  why,  papa  ?  " 
"  You  do  not  care  for  them,  I  suppose,  now  ?  " 
"  I  do  not  care  for  them  at  all,  papa.     I  did  care 
for  one  of  them  very  much,  once;  but  I  have  given 
him  up  long  ago.     When  I  found  he  had  forgotten 
us  it  was  not  worth  while  for  me  to  remember. 
That  is  all  dead.     His  father  and  mother, — I  doubt 
if  ever  they  were  real  friends,  to  you  or  to  me,  papa." 
"  I  am  inclined  to  think  William  was  not  so  much 
to  blame.     It  was  his  father's  fault,  perhaps." 

"  It  does  not  make  much  difference,"  said  Esther 
easily.  "  If  anything  could  make  him  forsake  us 
— after  the  old  times — he  is  not  worth  thinking 
about;  and  I  do  not  think  of  him.  That  is  an 
.ended  thing." 

There  was  a  little  something  in  the  tone  of  the 
last  words  which  allowed  the  hearer  to  divine  that 
the  closing  of  that  chapter  had  not  been  without 
pain,  and  that  the  pain  had  perhaps  scarcely  died 
out.  But  he  did  not  pursue  the  subject,  nor  say 
any  more  about  anything.  He  only  watched 
his  daughter,  uninterruptedly  though  stealthily. 
Watched  every  line  of  her  figure;  glanced  at  the 
sweet,  fair  face;  followed  every  quiet  graceful 
movement.  Esther  was  studying,  and  part  of  the 
time  she  was  drawing;  absorbed  in  her  work;  yet 
throughout,  what  most  struck  her  father  was  the 
high  happiness  that  sat  on  her  whole  person.  It 
was  in  the  supreme  calm  of  her  brow ;  it  was  in  a 


A   VISIT.  609 

half-appearing  smile,  which  hardly  broke  and  yet 
informed  the  soft  lips  with  a  constant  sweetness; 
it  seemed  to  the  colonel  to  appear  in  her  very  po 
sitions  and  movements,  and  probably  it  was  true; 
for  the  lines  of  peace  are  not  seen  in  an  uneasy 
figure,  nor  do  the  movements  of  grace  come  from  a 
restless  spirit.  The  colonel's  own  brow  should  have 
unbent  at  the  sweet  sight,  but  it  did  not.  He  drew 
his  brows  lower  and  lower  over  his  watching  eyes, 
and  now  and  then  set  his  teeth,  in  a  grim  kind 
of  way  for  which  there  seemed  no  sort  of  provoca 
tion.  "The  heart  knoweth  his  own  bitterness"; 
no  doubt  Col.  Gainsborough's  tasted  its  own  par 
ticular  draught  that  night,  which  he  shared  with 
nobody. 


CHAPTER   XLVII. 

A    TALK. 

THE  next  day  began  for  Esther  quite  in  its 
wonted  wise,  and  it  will  be  no  harm  to  see 
how  that  was.  She  was  up  very  early,  a  long  while 
before  the  sun;  and  after  a  somewhat  careful 
dressing,  for  it  was  not  in  Esther's  nature  to  do 
anything  imperfectly,  she  went  down  stairs,  to  her 
father's  little  study  or  dwelling  room.  It  was  free 
for  her  use  at  this  time  of  day ;  the  colonel  took  a 
late  breakfast  and  was  never  up  long  before  it. 
This  had  grown  to  be  his  invalid  habit;  in  the 
early  days  of  his  life  and  of  military  service,  no 
doubt  it  had  been  different.  The  room  was  empty 
and  still  at  this  hour;  even  Mrs.  Barker  was  not 
yet  astir,  and  a  delightful  sense  of  privacy  and  se 
curity  encompassed  the  temporary  occupant.  The 
weather  was  still  warm;  no  fire  would  be  needed 
till  it  was  time  for  the  colonel's  toast.  Moving 
like  a  mouse,  or  better,  like  a  gentle  domestic 
spirit,  Esther  lit  a  lamp,  opened  a  window  to  let 
the  morning  air  in,  and  sat  down  to  her  book. 

Do  you  think  it  was  philosophy,  or  science,  or 
(610) 


A  TALK.  611 

languages,  or  school  work?  Nay,  it  was  some 
thing  which  with  Esther  went  before  all  these,  and 
if  need  were  would  have  excluded  all  of  them.  She 
had  time  for  them  too,  as  things  were,  but  this 
must  come  first.  She  must  "  draw  water  from  the 
wells  of  salvation,"  before  she  felt  freshened  up  for 
the  rather  weary  encounters  and  dry  routine  of 
school  life;  she  must  feel  the  Rock  under  her  feet 
and  breathe  the  air  of  heaven  a  bit,  before  she 
ventured  forth  into  the  low-lying  grounds  and 
heavy  vapours  of  earthly  business  and  intercourse; 
and  she  must  have  her  armour  well  on,  and  bright, 
before  she  dared  to  meet  the  possible  dangers  and 
temptations  which  might  come  to  her  in  the  course 
of  the  day.  It  is  true,  this  day  was  a  free  day,  but 
that  made  no  difference.  Being  at  home  had  its 
trials  and  difficulties  as  well  as  being  abroad. 

But  drawing  from  those  wells,  and  breathing 
that  air,  Esther  thought  nothing  of  trials  or  diffi 
culties;  and  in  matter  of  fact,  for  her  they  hardly 
seemed  to  exist,  or  were  perceived  as  it  were  dimly 
and  their  contact  scarce  felt.  I  suppose  it  is  true 
in  all  warfares,  that  a  well-armed  and  alert  soldier 
is  let  alone  by  the  foes  that  would  have  swallowed 
him  up  if  he  had  been  defenceless  or  not  giving 
heed.  And  if  you  could  have  seen  Esther's  face 
during  that  hour,  you  would  understand  that  all 
possible  enemies  were  at  least  for  the  time  as 
hushed  as  the  lions  in  Daniel's  den ;  so  glad,  so 
grave,  so  pure  and  steadfast,  so  enjoying,  was  the 
expression  which  lay  upon  it.  Reading  and  pray- 


612  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

ing — praying  and  reading,  an  hour  good  went  by. 
Then  Esther  rose  up,  ready  for  the  work  of  the 
day. 

She  threw  open  all  the  windows  and  put  out 
her  lamp.  Then  she  gave  both  the  rooms  a  careful 
cleaning  and  dusting  and  putting  in  order;  set  the 
table  in  the  one,  for  breakfast,  arid  laid  the  fire  in  the 
other,  to  be  lit  whenever  her  father  might  desire  it. 
All  this  done  and  in  readiness,  she  sat  down  again 
to  study.  This  time  it  was  study  of  a  lower  grade; 
partly  preparation  for  school  work,  partly  reading 
for  her  own  advancement;  though  there  was  not 
much  time  for  this  latter.  It  was  long  past  eight, 
and  Mrs.  Barker  came  with  the  chafing-dish  of  red 
coals  and  the  tea  kettle.  She  stood  by  while  Esther 
made  the  tea,  looking  on  or  meditating;  and  then 
began  to  blow  the  coals  in  the  chafing-dish.  She 
blew  the  coals  and  looked  at  Esther. 

"  Miss  Esther,"  she  began,  "  did  master  say  any 
thing  about  the  visiter  that  came  to  see  him  yes 
terday  ?  " 

"  Not  much.  Why  ?  He  said  it  was  somebody 
on  business." 

"Well,  mum,  he  didn't  look  like  that  sort  o'  pus- 
son  at  all." 

"Why  not?  Any  sort  of  person  might  come  on 
business,  you  know." 

"  True,  mum,  but  this  wasn't  that  sort  o'  pusson. 
If  Christopher  had  opened  the  door  for  him,  he'd 
ha'knowed;  but  my  eyes  is  that  poor,  when  I'm 
lookin'  out  into  the  light  I  can't  seem  to  see  nothin' 


A  TALK.  613 

that's  nearer  me.  But  howsomever,  mum,  what  I 
did  see  of  him,  somehow,  it  put  me  in  mind  of 
Seaforth." 

"Seaforth!—  Why?  Who  did  you  think  it 
was  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure,  mum,  I  don't  know.  I  couldn't  see 
good,  with  the  light  behind  him  and  he  standin' 
in  the  doorway.  And  I  can't  say  how  it  was,  but 
what  he  made  me  think  of,  it  was  Seaforth,  mum." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  been  thinking  of  Seaforth, 
Barker,"  said  Esther  with  half  a  sigh.  "  It  could 
not  have  been  anybody  we  used"  to  know.  Papa 
went  there,  you  know,  last  summer,  to  see  old 
friends,  or  to  see  what  had  become  of  them ;  and 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas  were  gone  to  England,  to  their 
son,  and  with  them  the  young  lady  he  is  to  marry. 
I  dare  say  he  may  be  married  by  this  time,  or  just 
going  to  be  married.  He  has  quite  forgotten  us, 
you  may  be  sure.  I  do  not  expect  ever  to  see  him 
again.  Was  this  man  yesterday  young  or  old  ?  " 

"Young,  mum  ! — and  tall  and  straight,  and  very 
personable.  I'd  like  to  see  his  face  ! — but  it  may 
be  as  you  say." 

Perhaps  Esther  would  have  put  some  further 
question  to  her  father  at  breakfast  about  his  yes 
terday's  visit,  but  as  it  happened  she  had  other 
things  to  think  of.  The  colonel  was  in  a  querulous 
mood ;  not  altogether  uncommon  in  these  days,  but 
always  very  trying  to  Esther.  When  he  seemed 
contented  and  easy,  she  felt  repaid  for  all  labours 
or  deprivations;  but  when  that  state  of  things  failed, 


614  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

and  he  made  himself  uncomfortable  about  his  sur 
roundings,  there  would  come  a  miserable  cui  bono 
feeling.  If  he  were  not  satisfied,  then  what  did 
she  work  for?  and  what  was  gained  by  it  all?  This 
morning  she  was  just  about  to  put  a  question,  when 
Col.  Gainsborough  began. 

"  Is  this  the  best  butter  one  can  get  in  this  town?" 
"  Papa,  I  do  not  know ! "  said  Esther,  brought 
back  from  yesterday  to  to-day  with  a  sudden  pull. 
"It  is  Mrs.  Bounder's  butter,  and  we  have  always 
found  it  very  good;  and  she  lets  us  have  it  at  a 
lower  rate  than  we  could  get  it  in  the  stores." 

"Nothing  is  good  that  is  got  'at  a  low  rate.'  I 
do  not  believe  in  that  plan.  It  is  generally  a  cheat 
in  the  end." 

"It  has  been  warm  weather,  you  know,  papa; 
and  it  is  difficult  to  keep  things  so  nice  without  a 
cool  cellar." 

"  That  is  one  of  the  benefits  of  living  in  Major 
Street.     It  ought  to  be  called  '  Minor ' — for  we  are 
'minus'  nearly  everything,  I  think." 
What  could  Esther  say  ? 
"  My  dear,  what  sort  of  bread  is  this  ?  " 
"It  is  from  the  baker's,  papa.     Is  it  not  good?" 
"  Baker's  bread  is  never  good;  not  fit  to  nourish 
life  upon.     How  comes  it  we  have  baker's  bread  ? 
Barker  knows  what  I  think. of  it." 

"  I  suppose  she  was  unable  to  bake  yesterday." 
"  And  of  course  to-day  her  bread  will  be  too  fresh 
to  be  eatable  !     My  dear,  cannot  you  bring  a  little 
system  into  her  ways  ?  " 


A  TALK.  615 

"  She  does  the  very  best  she  can,  papa." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  that;  as  far  as  the  intention 
goes;  but  all  such  people  want  a  head  over  them. 
They  know  nothing  whatever  about  system.  By 
the  way,  can't  she  fry  her  bacon  without  burning 
it?  This  is  done  to  a  crisp." 

"  Papa,  T  am  very  sorry !  I  did  not  mean  to  give 
you  a  burnt  piece.  Mine  is  very  good.  Let  me 
find  you  a  better  bit." 

"  It  doesn't  matter !  "  said  the  colonel,  giving  his 
plate  an  unloving  shove.  "  A  man  lives  and  dies, 
all  the  same,  whether  his  bapon  is  burnt  or  not.  I 
suppose  nothing  matters!  Are  you  going  to  that 
party,  at  Mrs. 1  forget  her  name?  " 

"  1  think  not,  papa." 

"Why  not?" 

Esther  hesitated. 

"  Why  not  ?     Don't  you  like  to  go  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir.     I  like  it  very  well." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  go  ?  At  least  you  can 
give  a  reason." 

"  There  are  more  reasons  than  one,"  said  Esther ; 
she  was  extremely  unwilling  to  reveal  either  of 
them. 

"  Well,  go  on.  If  you  know  them,  you  can  tell 
them. to  me.  What  are  they?  " 

"  Papa,  it  is  really  of  no  consequence,  and  I  do 
not  mind  in  the  least;  but  in  truth  my  old  silk 
dress  has  been  worn  till  it  is  hardly  fit  to  go  any 
where  in." 

"  Can't  you  get  another  ?  " 


616  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  I  should  not  think  it  right,  papa.  We  want 
the  money  for  other  things." 

"  What  things  ?  " 

Did  he  not  know !    Esther  drew  breath  to  answer. 

"  Papa,  there  are  the  taxes,  which  I  agreed  with 
Mrs.  Bounder  I  would  pay,  you  know,  as  part  of 
the  rent.  The  money  is  ready,  and  that  is  a  great 
deal  more  pleasure  than  a  dress  and  a  party  would 
be  to  me.  And  then,  winter  is  coming  on,  and  we 
must  lay  in  our  fuel.  I  think  to  do  it  now,  while 
it  is  cheaper." 

"And  so,  for  that,  you  are  to  stay  at  home  and 
see  nobody !  " 

"  Isn't  it  right,  papa  ?  and  whatever  is  right  is 
always  pleasant  in  the  end." 

"Deucedly  pleasant!"  said  the  colonel  grimly 
and  rising  from  the  table.  "  I  am  going  to  my  room, 
Esther,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  called  to  see  any 
body.  If  business  comes,  you  must  attend  to  it." 

"  Called  to  see  anybody  "  !  Whoever  came  to 
that  house,  on  business  or  otherwise,  but  at  the 
most  rare  intervals !  And  now  one  business  visit 
had  just  come  yesterday ;  there  might  not  be  another 
in  months.  Esther  looked  a  little  sorrowful,  for 
her  father's  expression,  most  unwonted  from  his 
mouth,  shewed  his  irritation  to  be  extreme;  but 
what  had  irritated  him  ?  However,  she  was  some 
what  accustomed  to  this  sort  of  demonstration, 
which  nevertheless  always  grieved  her;  and  she 
was  glad  that  she  had  escaped  telling  her  father 
her  second  reason.  The  truth  was,  Esther's  way 


A  TALK.  617 

of  life  was  so  restricted  and  monotonous,  out' 
wardly;  she  lived  so  by  herself  and  to  herself;  that 
the  stimulus  and  refreshment  of  a  social  occasion 
like  that  one  when  she  had  met  Miss  Frere  a  year 
ago,  was  almost  too  pleasant.  It  made  Esther  feel 
a  little  too  sensibly  how  alone  and  shut  out  from 
human  intercourse  was  the  nobler  part  of  herself. 
A  little  real  intellectual  converse  and  contact  was 
almost  too  enjoyable;  it  was  a  mental  breath  of 
fresh  air,  in  which  life  seemed  to  change  and  be 
come  a  different  thing;  and  then, — we  all  know 
how  close  air  seems  after  fresh ; — the  routine  of  school 
teaching  and  the  stillness  and  uniformity  of  her 
home  existence,  seemed  to  press  upon  her  painfully, 
till  after  a  time  she  became  wonted  to  it  again. 
So,  on  the  whole,  she  thought  it  not  amiss  that  her 
old  party  dress  had  done  all  the  service  it  decently 
could,  and  that  she  had  no  means  to  get  another. 
And  now,  after  a  few  moments'  grave  shadow  on 
her  face,  all  shadows  cleared  away,  as  they  usually 
did,  and  she  set  herself  to  the  doing  of  what  this 
holiday  at  home  gave  her  to  do.  There  was  mend 
ing — making  up  accounts — a  drawing  to  finish  for 
a  model ;  after  that,  if  she  could  get  it  all  done  in 
time,  there  might  be  a  bit  of  blessed  reading  in  a 
new  book  that  her  old  friend  Miss  Fairbairn  had 
lent  her.  Esther  set  her  face  bravely  to  her  day's 
work. 

The  morning  was  not  far  advanced,  and  the 
mending  was  not  finished,  when  the  unwonted 
door  knocker  sounded  again.  This  time  the  door 


618  A  RED   WALLFLOWER. 

was  opened  by  some  one  whom  Pitt  did  not  know 
and  who  did  not  know  him ;  for  Mrs.  Bounder  had 
come  into  town,  and  as  Barker's  hands  were  just  in 
her  bread,  had  volunteered  to  go  to  the  door  for 
her.  Pitt  was  ushered  into  the  little  parlour,  in 
which,  as  nobody  was  there,  he  had  leisure  to  make 
several  observations.  Yesterday  he  had  had  no 
leisure  for  them.  Now  he  looked  about  him.  That 
the  fortunes  of  the  family  must  have  come  down 
very  much  it  was  evident.  Such  a  street,  in  the 
first  place;  then  this  little  bit  of  a  house;  and  then, 
there  was  more  than  that;  he  could  see  tokens  un- 
mistakeable  of  scantness  of  means.  The  drugget 
was  well  worn,  had  been  darned  in  two  places ;  very 
neatly,  but  darned  it  was;  and  the  rest  of  it  threat 
ened  breaches.  The  carpet  beyond  the  drugget  was 
old  and  faded,  and  the  furniture  ? — Pitt  wondered 
if  it  could  be  the  same  furniture,  it  looked  so  dif 
ferent  here.  There  was  the  colonel's  couch,  how 
ever;  he  recognized  that,  although  in  its  chintz 
cover,  which  was  no  longer  new,  but  faded  like 
the  carpet.  Books  on  the  table  were  certainly  the 
colonel's  books;  but  no  pictures  were  on  the  walls, 
no  pretty  trifles  lying  about;  nothing  was  there 
that  could  testify  of  the  least  margin  of  means  for 
anything  that  was  not  strictly  necessary.  Yet  it 
was  neat,  and  comfortable;  but  Pitt  felt  that  ex 
penditures  were  very  closely  measured  and  no  lat 
itude  allowed  to  ease  or  to  fancy.  He  stood  a  few 
minutes,  looking  and  taking  all  this  in;  and  then 
the  inner  door  opened,  and  he  forgot  it  instantly. 


A   TALK.  619 

At  one  stroke,  as  it  were,  the  mean  little  room  was 
transformed  into  a  sacred  temple,  and  here  was 
the  priestess.  The  two  young  people  stood  a  sec 
ond  or  two  silent,  facing  each  other. 

But  Esther  knew  him  at  once;  and  more,  as  she 
met  the  frank,  steadfast  eyes  that  she  had  known 
and  trusted  so  long  ago,  she  tru^ed  them  at  once 
again  and  perfectly.  There  was  no  mistaking 
either  their  truth  or  their  kindness.  In  spite  of 
his  new  connections  and  alienated  life,  her  old 
friend  had  not  forgotten  her.  She  extended  her 
hand,  with  a  flash  of  surprise  and  pleasure  in  her 
face;  which  was  not  a  flash  but  a  dawn,  for  it  grew 
and  brightened  into  warmer  kindliness. 

"  Pitt  Dallas !  "  she  said.  "  It  is  really  you ! " 
The  two  hands  met  and  clasped  and  lay  in  each 
other,  but  Pitt  had  no  words  for  what  went  on 
within  him.  With  the  first  sight  of  Esther  he 
knew  that  he  had  met  his  fate.  Here  was  all  that 
he  had  left  six  or  seven  years  ago,  how  changed ! 
The  little  head,  so  well  set  on  its  shoulders,  with 
its  wealth  of  beautifully  ordered  hair;  those  won 
derful  grave,  soft,  sweet,  thoughtful  eyes ;  the  char 
acter  of  the  quiet  mouth;  the  pure  dignity  and 
grace  of  the  whole  creature;  all  laid  a  spell  upon 
the  man.  He  found  no  words  to  speak  audibly; 
but  in  his  mind  words  heaped  on  words,  and  he 
was  crying  to  himself,  "  0  my  beauty  !  O  my  ga 
zelle  !  My  fair  saint !  My  lily  !  My  Queen  !  " — 
What  right  he  had  to  the  personal  pronoun  does 
not  appear;  however,  we  know  that  appropriation 


620  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

is  an  instinct  of  humanity  for  that  which  it  likes. 
And  it  may  also  be  noted,  that  Pitt  never  thought 
of  calling  Esther  a  rose.  Nor  would  any  one  else. 
That  was  not  her  symbol.  Roses  are  sweet,  sweeter 
than  anything,  and  yielding  in  fairness  to  nothing; 
but — let  me  be  pardoned  for  saying  it,  they  are 
also  common.  And  Esther  was  rather  something 
apart,  rare.  If  I  liken  her  to  a  lily,  I  do  not  mean 
those  fair  white  lilies  which  painters  throw  at  the 
feet  of  Franciscan  monks  and  dedicate  also  to  the 
Virgin;  Annunciation  lilies,  so  called.  They  are 
common  too,  and  rather  specially  emblems  of  purity. 
What  I  am  thinking  of,  and  what  Pitt  was  think 
ing  of,  is  on  the  contrary  one  of  those  unique  exotic 
lilies,  which  are  as  much  wonders  of  colour  as  mar 
vels  of  grace;  apart,  reserved,  pure,  also  lofty,  and 
delicate  to  the  last  degree;  queening  it  over  all 
the  rest  of  the  flowers  around,  not  so  much  by  of 
ficial  preeminence  of  beauty  as  by  the  superiority 
of  the  spiritual  nature.  A  difference  internal  and 
ineffable,  which  sets  them  of  necessity  aside  of  the 
crowd  and  above  it. 

Pitt  felt  all  this  in  a  breath,  which  I  have  taken 
so  many  words  clumsily  to  set  forth.  He,  as  I  said, 
took  no  words ;  and  only  gave  such  expression  to 
his  thoughts  as  he  could  at  the  moment  by  bowing 
very  low  over  Esther's  hand  and  kissing  it.  Some 
thing  about  the  action  hurt  Esther;  she  drew  her 
hand  away. 

"  It  is  a  great  surprise,"  she  said  quietly.  "  Won't 
you  sit  down  ?  " 


A  TALK.  621 

"  The  surprise  ought  to  have  been,  that  you  did 
not  see  me  before;  not  that  I  am  here  now." 

"I  got  over  that  surprise  a  great  while  ago," 
said  Esther.  "At  least,  I  thought  I  did;  but  it 
comes  back  to  me  now  that  I  see  you.  How  was 
it  ?  How  could  it  be  ?  " 

In  answer  to  which,  Pitt  gave  her  a  detailed  ac 
count  of  his  various  efforts  in  past  years  to  discover 
the  retreat  of  his  old  friends.  This  was  useful  to 
him;  he  got  his  breath,  as  it  were,  which  the  sight 
of  Esther  had  taken  away;  was  himself  again. 

Esther  listened  silently,  with  perfect  faith  in  the 
speaker  and  his  statements,  with  a  little  undefined 
sort  of  regretfulness.  So  then,  Pitt  need  not  have 
been  lost  to  them,  if  only  they  could  have  been 
found!  Just  what  that  thought  meant  she  had 
no  time  then  to  inquire.  She  hardly  interrupted 
him  at  all. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  became  of  your  letters?  " 
she  asked  when  he  had  done.  For  Pitt  had  not 
said  that  they  went  to  his  father's  hands. 

"  I  suppose  they  shared  the  fate  of  all  letters 
uncalled-for;  if  not  the  dead-letter  office,  the 
fire." 

"  It  was  not  very  strange  that  you  could  not  find 
us  when  you  came  to  New  York.  We  really 
troubled  the  post  office  very  little,  having  after  a 
while  nothing  to  expect  from  it;  and  that  was  the 
only  place  where  you  could  hope  to  get  a  clue." 
Neither  would  Esther  mention  Mr.  Dallas.  With 
a  woman's  curious  fine  discernment  she  had  ween 


622  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

that  all  was  not  right  in  that  quarter;  indeed  had 
suspected  it  long  ago. 

"  But  you  got  some  letters  from  me  ?  "  Pitt  went 
on, — "  while  you  were  in  Seaforth.  One  or  two,  I 
know." 

"Yes,  several.    0  yes!  while  we  were  in  Seaforth." 

"And  I  got  answers.  Do  you  remember  one 
long  letter  you  wrote  me  ? — the  second  year  after 
I  went?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said  without  looking  at  him. 

"Esther,  that  letter  was  worth  everything  to 
me.  It  was  like  a  sunbeam  coming  out  between 
misty  clouds  and  shewing  things  for  a  moment  in 
their  true  colours.  I  never  forgot  it.  I  never  could 
forget  it,  though  I  fought  for  some  years  with  the 
truth  it  revealed  to  me.  I  believed  what  you  told 
me,  and  so  I  knew  what  I  ought  to  do;  but  I  strug 
gled  against  my  convictions.  I  knew  from  that 
time,  that  it  was  the  happiest  thing  and  the  worth 
iest  thing,  to  be  a  saint;  all  the  same,  I  wanted  to 
be  a  sinner.  I  wanted  to  follow  my  own  way  and 
be  my  own  master.  I  wanted  to  distinguish  my 
self  in  my  profession,  and  rise  in  the  world,  and 
tower  over  other  men ;  and  I  liked  all  the  delights 
of  life,  as  well  as  other  people  do,  and  was  unwill 
ing  to  give  up  a  life  of  self-indulgence,  which  I 
had  means  to  gratify.  Esther,  I  fought  hard !  I 
fought  for  years, — can  you  believe  it? — before 
I  could  make  up  my  mind." 

"And  now? — "  she  said,  looking  at  him. 

"Now? — Now,"   said  he   lowering  his  voice   a 


A  TALK.  623 

little, — u  now  I  have  come  to  know  the  truth  of  what 
you  told  me;  I  have  learned  to  know  Christ;  and  I 
know,  as  you  know,  that  all  things  that  may  be 
desired  are  not  to  be  compared  with  that  knowledge. 
I  understand  what  Paul  meant  when  he  said  he  had 
suffered  the  loss  of  all  things  for  it  and  counted 
them  less  than  nothing.  So  do  I;  so  would  I;  so 
have  I,  as  far  as  the  giving  up  of  myself  and  them 
to  their  right  owner  goes.  That  is  done." 

Esther  was  very  glad;  she  knew  she  ought  to  be 
very  glad,  and  she  was;  and  yet,  gladness  was  not 
precisely  the  uppermost  feeling  that  possessed  her. 
She  did  not  know  what  in  the  world  could  make 
her  think  of  tears  at  that  moment;  but  there  was  a 
strange  sensation  as  if,  had  she  been  alone,  she 
would  have  liked  to  cry.  No  shadow  of  such  a 
softness  appeared,  however. 

"What  decided  you  at  last?"  she  said  softly. 
"  I  can  scarce  tell  you,"  he  answered.  "  I  was 
busy  studying  the  matter, — arguing  for  and  against ; 
and  then  I  saw  of  a  sudden  that  I  was  lighting  a 
lost  battle;  that  my  sense  and  reason  and  conscience 
were  all  gained  over,  and  only  my  will  held  out. 
Then  I  gave  up  fighting  any  more." 

"  You  came  up  to  the  subject  on  a  different  side 
from  what  I  did,"  Esther  remarked. 

"And  you,   Esther?  have  you   been  always  as 
happy  as  you  were  when  you  wrote  that  letter?" 
uYes,"  she  said  quietly.     "More   happy."     But 
she  did  not  look  up. 

"  The  happiness  in  your  letter  was  the  sunbeam 


624  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

that  cleared  up  everything  for  me.  Now  I  have 
talked  enough ;  tell  me  of  yourself  and  your  father." 
"There  is  not  much  to  tell,"  said  Esther  with 
that  odd  quietness.  She  felt  somehow  oppressed. 
"We  are  living  in  the  old  fashion;  have  been  liv 
ing  so,  all  along." 

"  But-  Quite  in  the  old  fashion  ?  "  he  said  with  a 
swift  glance  at  the  little  room  where  they  were  sit 
ting.  "  It  does  not  look  so,  Esther." 

"  This  is  not  so  pleasant  a  place  as  we  were  in 
when  we   first  came  to  New  York,"   Esther  con 
fessed.     "  That  was  very  pleasant." 
"  Why  did  you  change  V  " 

"  It  was  necessary,"  she  said  with  a  smile.     "  0 
you  may  as  well  know  it;— papa  lost  money." 
"  How  ?  " 

"He  invested  the  money  from  the  sale  of  the1 
place  at  Seaforth,  in   some  stocks  that  gave  out 
somehow.     He  lost  it  all.     So  then  we  had  nothing 
but  the  stipend  from  England;  and  I  think  papa 
somehow  lost  part  of  that,  or  was  obliged  to  take 
part  of  it  to  meet  obligations." 
"  And  you?— " 

"  We  did  very  well,"  said  Esther  with  another 
smile.     "  We  are  doing  very  well  now.     We  are 
out  of  debt,  and  that  is  everything.     And  I  think 
papa  is  pretty  comfortable." 
"And  Esther?—" 
"  Esther  is  happy." 

"  But — I  should  think,  forgive  me !  that  this  bit 
of  a  house  would  hardly  hold  you." 


A  TALK.  625 

"See  how  mistaken  you  are!  We  have  two 
rooms  unused." 

Pitt's  eye  roved  somewhat  restlessly  over  the  one 
in  which  they  were,  as  he  remarked, 

"  I  never  comprehended  just  why  you  went  away 
from  Seaforth." 

"  For  my  education,  I  believe." 

"  You  were  getting  a  very  good  education  when 
I  was  there !  " 

"  When  you  were  there,"  repeated  Esther  smiling ; 
but  then  she  went  on  quickly, — "  Papa  thought  he 
could  not  give  me  all  the  advantages  he  wished, 
if  we  staid  in  Seaforth.  So  we  came  to  New  York. 
And  now,  you  see,  I  am  able  to  provide  for  him. 
The  education  is  turning  to  account." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Pitt  suddenly. 

"  I  help  out  his  small  income  by  giving  lessons." 

"You,  giving  lessons?     Not  that,  Esther  !  " 

"Why  not?"  she  said  quietly.  "The  thing 
given  one  to  do.  is  the  thing  to  do,  you  know; 
and  this  certainly  was  given  me.  And  by  means 
of  that  we  get  along  nicely." 

Again  Pitt's  eye  glanced  over  the  scanty  little 
apartment.  What  sort  of  "  getting  along  "  was  it 
which  kept  them  here  ? 

"  What  do  you  teach  ?  "  he  asked,  speaking  out 
of  a  confusion  of  thoughts  the  one  thing  that 
occurred  which  it  was  safe  to  say. 

"Drawing, — and  music, — and  some  English 
branches." 

"Doyouft&eit?" 


626  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

She  hesitated.  "  I  am  very  thankful  to  have  it 
to  do.  I  do  not  fancy  that  teaching  for  money  is 
just  the  same  as  teaching  for  pleasure.  But  I  am 
very  glad  to  be  able  to  do  it.  Before  that, — there 
was  a  time  when  I  did  not  know  just  what  was 
going  to  become  of  us.  Now  I  am  very  happy." 

Pitt  could  not  at  the  moment  speak  all  his 
thoughts.  Moreover,  there  was  something  about 
Esther  that  perplexed  him.  She  was  so  unmovedly 
quiet  in  her  manner.  It  was  kind,  no  doubt,  and 
pleasant,  and  pleased;  and  yet, — there  was  a  smooth 
distance  between  him  and  her  that  troubled  him. 
He  did  not  know  how  to  get  rid  of  it.  It  was  so 
smooth,  there  was  nothing  to  take  hold  of;  while 
it  was  so  distant,  or  put  her  rather  at  such  a  dis 
tance,  that  all  Pitt's  newly  aroused  feelings  were 
stimulated  to  the  utmost,  both  by  the  charm  and 
by  the  difficulty.  How  exquisite  was  this  soft 
dignity  and  calm  !  but  to  the  man  who  was  long 
ing  to  be  permitted  to  clasp  his  arms  round  her  it 
was  somewhat  aggravating. 

"What  has  become  of  Christopher  ?"  he  asked 
after  a  pause. 

"  0  Christopher  is  happy ! "  said  Esther  with  a 
smile  that  was  only  too  frank  and  free.  Pitt 
wished  she  would  have  shewn  a  little  embarrass 
ment  or  consciousness.  "  Christopher  is  happy. 
He  has  become  a  householder  and  a  market  gar 
dener,  and  above  all,  a  married  man.  Married  a 
market  gardener's  widow,  and  set  up  for  himself.' 

"  What  do  you  do  without  him  ?  " 


A  TALK.  627 

"  0  we  could  not  afford  him  now,"  said  Esther 
with  another  smile.  "It  was  very  good  for  us, 
almost  as  good  for  us  as  for  him.  Christopher  has 
become  a  man  of  substance.  We  hire  this  house 
of  him,  or  rather  of  his  wife." 

u  Are  the  two  not  one  then?" 

Esther  laughed.  "Yes,"  she  said ;  "  but  you  know, 
winch  one  it  is  depends  on  circumstances." 

And  she  went  on  to  tell  about  her  first  meeting 
with  the  present  Mrs.  Bounder,  and  of  all  the  sub 
sequent  intercourse  and  long  chain  of  kindnesses; 
to  which  Pitt  listened  eagerly  though  with  a  some 
what  distracted  mind.  At  the  end  of  her  story 
Esther  rose. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 
A  SETTLEMENT. 

"TT7ILL  you  excuse  me,  if  I  leave  you  for  one 

VV      moment  to  go  down  into  the  kitchen  ?  " 

"  What  for,"  said  Pitt  stopping  her. 

"  I  want  to  see  if  Mrs.  Barker  has  anything  in 
the  house  for  lunch." 

"Sit  down  again.  She  certainly  will.  She  al 
ways  does." 

"But  I  want  to  let  her  know  that  there  will  be 
one  more  at  table  to-day." 

"  Never  mind.  If  the  supplies  fall  short  I  will  go 
out  and  get  some  oysters.  1  know  the  colonel  likes 
oysters.  Sit  still,  and  let  us  talk  while  we  can." 

Esther  sat  down,  a  little  wondering,  for  Pitt  was 
evidently  in  earnest;  too  much  in  earnest  to  be 
denied.  But  when  she  had  sat  down  he  did  not 
begin  to  talk.  He  was  thinking;  and  words  were 
not  ready.  It  was  Esther  who  spoke  first. 

"  And  you,  Pitt  ?  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  called  him  by  his 
name  in  the  old  fashion.  He  acknowledged  it  with 
a  pleased  glance. 

"  Don't  you  know  all  about  me  ?  "  he  said. 
(628) 


A  SETTLEMENT.  629 

"I  know  nothing,  but  what  you  have  told  me. 
And  hearsay,"  added  Esther,  colouring  a  little. 

"  Did  your  father  not  tell  you?  " 

"  Papa  told  me  nothing."  And  therewith  it  oc 
curred  to  Esther  how  odd  it  was  that  her  father 
should  have  been  so  reticent;  that  he  should  not 
have  so  much  as  informed  her  who  his  visiter  had 
been.  And  then  it  also  occurred  to  her  how  he 
had  desired  not  to  be  called  down  to  see  anybody 
that  morning.  Then  it  must  be  that  he  did  not 
want  to  see  Pitt  ?  Had  he  taken  a  dislike  to  him  ? 
disapproved  of  his  marriage,  perhaps?  And  how 
would  luncheon  be  under  these  circumstances? 
One  thought  succeeded  another  in  growing  confu 
sion,  but  then  Pitt  began  to  talk  and  she  was  obliged 
to  attend  to  him. 

"  Then  your  father  did  not  tell  you  that  I  have 
become  a  householder  too  ?  " 

"  I — no, — yes  !  I  heard  something  said  about 
it,"  Esther  answered  stammering. 

"  He  told  you  of  my  old  uncle's  death  and  gift 
to  me  ?  " 

"  No,  nothing  of;  that.     What  is  it  ?  " 

Then  Pitt  began  and  gave  her  the  whole  story; 
of  his  life  with  his  uncle,  of  Mr.  Strahan's  excel 
lences  and  peculiarities,  of  his  favour,  his  illness 
and  death,  and  the  property  he  had  bequeathed  in 
tact  to  his  grand  nephew.  He  described  the  house 
at  Kensington,  finding  a  singular  pleasure  in  talk 
ing  about  it ;  for  as  his  imagination  recalled  the  old 
chambers  and  halls  it  constantly  brought  into 


630  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

them  the  sweet  figure  of  the  girl  he  was  speak 
ing  to,  and  there  was  a  play  of  light  often,  or  a 
warm  glow,  or  a  sudden  sparkle  in  his  eyes,  which 
Esther  could  not  help  noticing.  Woman-like,  she 
was  acute  enough  also  to  interpret  it  rightly;  only, 
to  be  sure,  she  never  put  herself  in  the  place  of  the 
person  concerned,  but  gave  all  that  secret  homage 
to  another.  It  is  like  Pitt !  she  thought,  with  a 
suppressed  sigh  which  she  could  not  stop  to  criti 
cize;  it  is  like  him;  as  much  in  earnest  in  love  as 
in  other  things;  always  in  earnest!  It  must  be 
something  to  be  loved  so.  However,  carrying  on 
such  aside  reflections,  she  kept  all  the  while  her 
calm,  sweet,  dignified  manner  which  was  bewitch 
ing  Pitt,  and  entered  with  generous  interest  into 
all  he  told  her;  supplying  in  her  own  way  what  he 
did  not  tell,  and  on  her  part  also  peopling  the  halls 
and  chambers  at  Kensington  with  two  figures,* 
neither  of  which  was  her  own.  Her  imagination 
flew  back  to  the  party,  a  year  ago,  at  which  she 
had  seen  Betty  Frere,  and  mixed  up  things  reck 
lessly.  How  would  she  fit  into  this  new  life  of 
Pitt,  of  which  he  had  been  speaking  a  little  while 
ago  ?  Had  she  changed  too,  perhaps  ?  It  was  to 
be  hoped ! — 

Pitt  ended  what  he  had  to  say  about  his  uncle 
and  his  house,  and  there  was  a  little  pause.  Esther 
half  wondered  that  he  did  not  get  up  and  go  away; 
but  there  was  no  sign  of  that.  Pitt  sat  quietly, 
thoughtfully,  also  contentedly,  before  her,  at  least 
so  far  as  appeared;  of  all  his  thoughts  not  one  of 


A  SETTLEMENT.  631 

them  concerned  going  away.  It  had  begun  to  be 
a  mixed  pleasure  to  Esther,  his  being  there ;  for  she 
thought  now  that  he  was  married  he  would  be  taken 
up  with  his  own  home  interests,  and  the  friend  of  other 
days,  if  still  living,  would  be  entirely  lost.  And  so 
every  look  and  expression  of  his  which  testified  to 
a  fine  and  sweet  and  strong  character,  which  proved 
him  greatly  ennobled  and  beautified  beyond  what 
she  had  remembered  him ;  and  all  his  words  which 
shewed  the  gentleman,  the  man  of  education  and  the 
man  of  ability ;  while  they  greatly  delighted  Esther, 
they  began  oddly  to  make  her  feel  alone  and  poor. 
Still,  she  would  use  her  opportunity,  and  make  the 
most  of  this  interview. 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  be,  Pitt  ? "  she 
asked,  when  both  of  them  had  been  quite  still  for 
a  few  minutes.  He  turned  his  face  quick  towards 
her  with  a  look  of  question. 

"  Now  you  are  a  man  of  property,"  said  Esther, 
"  what  do  you  think  to  do  ?  You  were  going  to 
read  law." 

"  I  have  been  reading  law,  for  two  or  three  years." 

"  And  are  you  going  to  give  it  up  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  give  it  up  ?  " 

"  The  question  seems  rather,  why  should  you  go 
on  with  it  V  " 

"  Put  it  so,"  he  said.  "Ask  the  question.  Why 
should  I  go  on  with  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  asked  the  question,"  said  Esther  laugh 
ing.  "  You  seem  to  come  to  me  for  the  answer." 

"  I  do.    What  is  the  answer  ?    Give  it,  please.    Is 


632  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

there  any  reason,  why  a  man  who  has  money  enough 
to  live  upon,  should  go  to  the  bar  ?  " 

"I  can  think  of  but  one,"  said  Esther,  grave 
and  wondering  now.  "Perhaps  there  is  one 
reason." 

"  And  that  ?— "  said  Pitt  without  looking  at  her. 
"  I  can  think  of  but  one,"  Esther  repeated.  "  Ft 
is  not  a  man's  business  view,  I  know,  but  it  is  mine. 
I  can  think  of  no  reason  why,  for  itself,  a  man 
should  plunge  himself  into  the  strifes  and  confu 
sions  of  the  law,  supposing  that  he  need  not,  except 
for  the  one  sake  of  righting  the  wrong  and  deliver 
ing  the  oppressed." 

"  That  is  my  view,"  said  Pitt  quietly. 
"And  is  that  what  you  are  going  to  do?"  she 
said  with  smothered  eagerness,  and  as  well  a  smoth 
ered  pang. 

"I  do  not  propose  to  be  a  lawyer  merely,"  he 
said,  in  the  same  quiet  way,  not  looking  at  her. 
"  But  I  thought  it  would  give  me  an  advantage  in 
the  great  business  of  righting  the  wrong  and  Jetting 
the  oppressed  go  free.  So  I  propose  to  finish  my 
terms  and  be  called  to  the  bar." 

"  Then  you  will  live  in  England  ?  "  said  Esther, 
with  a  most  unaccountable  feeling  of  depression  at 
the  thought. 

"  For  the  present,  probably.  Wherever  I  can  do 
my  work  best." 

"  Your  work  ?     That  is—?  " 

"Do  you  ask  me?"  said  he,  now  looking  at  her 
with  a  very  bright  and  sweet  smile.  The  sweetness 


A  SETTLEMENT.  633 

of  it  was  so  unlike  the  Pitt  Dallas  she  used  to  know, 
that  Esther  was  confounded.  "Do  you  ask  me? 
What  should  be  the  work  in  life  of  one  who  was 
once  a  slave  and  is  now  Christ's  freeman  ?  " 

Esther  looked  at  him  speechless. 

"You  remember,"  he  said,  "the  Lord's  word — 
'This  is  my  commandment,  that  ye  love  one  an 
other,  as  I  have  loved  you'  And  then  he  immedi 
ately  gave  the  gauge  and  measure  of  that  love,  the 
greatest  possible, — '  that  a  man  lay  down  liis  life  for 
his  friends' " 

"And  you  mean — ?" 

"  Only  that,  Queen  Esther.  I  reckon  that  my 
life  is  the  Lord's,  and  that  the  only  use  of  it  is  to 
do  his  work.  I  will  study  law  for  that,  and  practise 
as  I  may  have  occasion ;  and  for  that  I  will  use  all  the 
means  he  may  give  me; — so  far  as  I  can,  to  '  break 
every  yoke,  and  let  the  oppressed  go  free,' — to  '  heal 
the  sick,  cleanse  the  lepers,  raise  the  dead,  cast  out 
devils.' — So  far  as  I  may.  Surely  it  is  the  least  I 
can  do  for  my  Master." 

Pitt  spoke  quietly,  gravely,  with  the  light  of  a 
settled  purpose  in  his  eye,  and  also  with  the  peace 
of  a  fixed  joy  in  his  face.  Indeed  his  face  said 
more  than  his  words,  to  Esther  who  knew  him  and 
it;  she  read  there  the  truth  of  what  he  said,  and 
that  it  was  no  fantasie  of  passing  enthusiasm,  but  a 
lifelong  choice,  grave  and  glad,  of  which  he  was 
telling  her.  With  a  sudden  movement  she  stretched 
out  her  hand  to  him,  which  he  eagerly  clasped,  and 
their  hands  lay  so  in  each  other  for  a  minute,  with- 


634  A  RED  WALLFLOWER 

out  other  speech  than  that  of  the  close-held  fin 
gers.  Esther's  other  hand  however  had  covered 
her  eyes. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Queen  Esther?  "  said  Pitt, 
seeing  this. 

"  I  am  so  glad — so  glad  ! — and  so  sorry."  Esther 
took  down  her  hand ;  she  was  not  crying.  u  Glad 
for  you, — and  sorry  that  there  are  so  very  few  who 
feel  as  you  do.  0  how  very  strange  it  is !  " 

He  still  held  her  other  hand. 

"Yes,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "it  is  strange.  What 
do  you  think  of  the  old  word  in  the  Bible,  that  it  is 
not  good  for  man  to  be  alone  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  is  true,"  said  Esther,  withdrawing 
her  hand.  Now,  she'  thought,  he  is  going  to  tell 
me  about  his  bride  and  his  marriage.  And  she 
rather  wished  she  could  be  spared  that  special  com 
munication.  At  the  same  time  the  wondering 
speculation  seized  her  again,  whether  Betty  Frere, 
as  she  had  seen  her,  was  likely  to  prove  a  good 
help-meet  for  this  man. 

"  You  suppose  it  is  true.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
about  that,  I  think,  for  the  man.  How  is  it  for 
the  woman  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  studied  the  question,"  said  Esther. 
"  By  what  people  say,  the  man  is  the  more  inde 
pendent  of  the  two  when  he  is  young,  and  the 
woman  when  she  is  old." 

"  Neither  ought  to  be  independent  of  the  other  !  " 

"  They  seldom  are,"  said  Esther,  feeling  inclined 
to  laugh,  although  not  in  the  least  merry.  Pitt 


A  SETTLEMENT.  635 

was  silent  a  few  minutes,  evidently  revolving  some 
thing  in  his  mind. 

"You  said  you  had  two  rooms  unoccupied,"  he 
began  at  last.  "  I  want  to  be  some  little  time  in 
New  York  yet ;  will  you  let  me  move  into  them  ?  " 

"  You  !  "  exclaimed  Esther. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  steadfastly.  "  You 
do  not  want  them, — and  I  do." 

"  I  do  not  believe  they  would  suit  you,  Pitt,"  said 
Esther,  consumed  with  secret  wonder. 

"I   am   sure   no   other   could   suit   me   half  so 

well ! " 

"What  do  you  think  your  bride  would  say  to 
them  ?  you  know  that  must  be  taken  into  consid 
eration." 

"  My  bride  ?  I  beg  your  pardon !  Did  I  hear 
you  aright  ?  " 

"Yes!"  said  Esther  opening  her  eyes  a  little. 
"  Your  bride, — your  wife.  Isn't  she  here  ?  " 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  Who  was  she,  do  you  mean  ?  Or  are  you  per 
haps  not  married  yet  ?  " 

"Most  certainly  not  married!  But  may  I  beg 
you  to  go  on  V  You  were  going  to  tell  me  who  the 
lady  is  supposed  to  be  V  " 

"01  know,"  said  Esther,  smiling  yet  perplexed. 
"  I  believe  I  have  seen  her.  And  I  admire  her  too, 
Pitt,  very  much.  Though  when  I  saw  her  I  do 
not  think  she  would  have  agreed  with  the  views 
you  have  been  expressing  to  me." 
"  Where  did  you  see  her  ?  " 


636  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"Last  fall.  0  a  year  ago,  almost;  time  enough 
for  minds  to  change.  It  was  at  a  party  here." 

"  And  you  saw — whom  ?  " 

"  Miss  Frere.     Isn't  she  the  lady  V  '' 

"Miss  Frere!"  exclaimed  Pitt;  and  nis  colour 
changed  a  little.  "  May  I  ask  how  this  story  about 
me  has  come  to  your  ears,  and  been  believed  ?  as  I 
see  you  have  accepted  it." 

"  Why  very  straight,"  said  Esther,  her  own  col 
our  flushing  now  brightly.  "  It  was  not  difficult 
to  believe.  It  was  very  natural;  at  least  to  me, 
who  have  seen  the  lady." 

"  Miss  Frere  and  I  are  very  good  friends,"  said 
Pitt;  "which  state  of  things  however  might  not 
long  survive  our  proposing  to  be  anything  more. 
But  we  never  did  propose  to  be  anything  more. 
What  made  you  think  it  ?  " 

"  Did  papa  tell  you  that  he  went  up  to  Seaforth 
this  summer  ?  " 

"  He  said  nothing  about  it." 

"  He  did  go,  however.  It  was  a  very  great  thing 
for  papa  to  do,  too;  for  he  goes  nowhere,  and  it  is 
very  hard  for  him  to  move;  but  he  went.  It  was 
in  August.  We  had  heard  not  a  word  from  Sea 
forth  for  such  a  long,  long  time, — not  for  two  or 
three  years,  I  think ; — and  not  a  word  from  you ;  and 
papa  had  a  mind  to  see  what  was  the  meaning  of 
it  all,  and  whether  anybody  was  left  in  Seaforth  or 
not.  I  thought  everybody  had  forgotten  us,  and 
papa  said  he  would  go  and  see." 

"  Yes, — "  said  Pitt,  as  Esther  paused. 


A  SETTLEMENT.  637 

"And  of  course,  you  know,  he  found  nobody. 
All  our  friends  were  gone,  at  least.  And  people 
told  papa  you  had  been  home  the  year  before,  and 
had  been  in  Seaforth  a  long  while;  and  the  lady 
was  there  too  whom  you  were  going  to  marry ;  and 
that  this  year  they  had  all  gone  over  to  see  you, 
that  lady  and  all ;  and  the  wedding  would  probably 
be  before  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas  came  home.  So 
papa  came  back  and  told  me." 

"  And  you  believed  it !     Of  course." 

"  How  could  I  help  believing  it  ? "  said  Esther, 
smiling;  but  her  eyes  avoided  Pitt  now,  and  her 
colour  went  and  came.  "It  was  a  very  straight 
story." 

"Yet  not  a  bit  of  truth  in  it.  0  yes,  they 
came  over  to  see  me;  but  I  have  never  thought 
of  marrying  Miss  Frere,  nor  any  other  lady; 
nor  ever  shall,  unless — you  have  forgotten  me, 
Esther  ?  " 

Esther  sat  so  motionless  that  Pitt  might  have 
thought  she  had  not  heard  him,  but  for  the  swift 
flashing  colour  which  went  and  came.  She  had 
heard  him  well  enough,  and  she  knew  what  the 
words  were  meant  to  signify,  for  the  tone  of  them 
was  unmistakeable;  but  answer,  in  any  way,  Es 
ther  could  not.  She  was  a  very  fair  image  of  maid 
enly  modesty  and  womanly  dignity,  rather  unmis 
takeable  too  in  its  way;  but  she  spoke  not,  nor 
raised  an  eyelid. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  me,  Esther  ?  "  he  repeated 
gently. 


638  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

She  did  not  answer  then.  She  was  moveless 
for  another  instant;  and  then,  rising,  with  a  swift 
motion  she  passed  out  of  the  room.  But  it  was  not 
the  manner  of  dismissal  or  leave-taking,  and  Pitt 
waited  for  what  was  to  come  next.  And  in  another 
moment  or  two  she  was  there  again,  all  covered 
with  blushes,  and  her  eyes  cast  down,  down  upon 
an  old  book  which  she  held  in  her  hand  and  pres 
ently  held  open.  She  was  standing  before  him 
now,  he  having  risen  when  she  rose.  From  the 
very  fair  brow  and  rosy  cheek  and  soft  line  of  the 
lips,  Pitt's  eye  at  last  went  down  to  the  book  she 
held  before  him.  There  on  the  somewhat  large 
page,  lay  a  dried  flower.  The  petals  were  still 
velvety  and  rich  coloured,  and  still  from  them 
came  a  faint  sweet  breath  of  perfume.  What  did 
it  mean  ?  Pitt  looked,  and  then  looked  closer. 

"It  is  a  Cheiranthus,"  he  said;  "the  red  variety. 
What  does  it  mean,  Esther  ?  What  does  it  say  to 
my  question  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  eagerly;  but  if  he  did  not  know, 
Esther  could  not  tell  him."  She  was  filled  with  con 
fusion.  What  dreadful  thing  was  this,  that  his 
memory  should  be  not  so  good  as  hers!  She  could 
not  speak;  the  lovely  shamefaced  flushes  mounted 
up  to  the  delicate  temples  and  told  their  tale,  but 
Pitt,  though  he  read  them  did  not  at  once  read 
the  flower.  Esther  made  a  motion  as  if  she  would 
take  it  away,  but  he  prevented  her  and  looked 
closer. 

"The  red  Cheiranthus,"  he  repeated.     "Did  it 


A  SETTLEMENT.  G39 

come  from  Seaforth  ?  I  remember,  old  Macpherson 
used  to  have  them  in  his  greenhouse.  Esther ! — 
did  /  bring  it  to  you  ?  " 

"Christmas" — stammered  Esther.  "Don't  you 
remember  ?  " 

"  Christmas !  Of  course  I  do !  It  was  in  that 
bouquet  ?  What  became  of  the  rest  of  it  ?  " 

"  Papa  made  me  burn  all  the  rest,"  said  Esther, 
with  her  own  cheeks  now  burning.  And  she  would 
have  turned  away,  leaving  the  book  in  his  hands, 
with  an  action  of  as  shy  grace  as  ever  Milton  gave 
to  his  Eve ;  but  Pitt  got  rid  of  the  book  and  took 
herself  in  his  arms  instead. 

And  then  for  a  few  minutes  there  was  no  more 
conversation.  They  had  reached  a  point  of  mutual 
understanding  where  words  would  have  been  su 
perfluous. 

But  words  came  into  their  right  again. 
"  Esther,  do  you  remember  my  kissing  you  when 
[  went  away,  six  or  seven  years  ago  ?  " 
«  Certainly !— " 

"  I  think  that  kiss  was  in  some  sort  a  revelation 
to  me.  I  did  not  fully  recognize  it  then,  what  the 
revelation  was;  but  I  think,  ever  since  I  have  been 
conscious,  vaguely,  that  there  was  an  invisible 
silken  thread  of  some  sort  binding  me  to  you;  and 
that  I  should  never  be  quite  right  till  I  followed 
the  clue  and  found  you  again.  The  vagueness  is 
gone,  and  has  given  place  to  the  most  daylight 
certainty." 

"I  am  glad  of  that—"   said  Esther  demurely, 


640  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

though  speaking  with  a  little  effort.     "  You  always 
liked  certainties." 

"Did  you  miss  me?" 

"  0  Pitt,  more  than  I  can  possibly  tell  you  !  Not 
then  only,  but  all  the  time  since.  Only  one  thing 
has  kept  rne  from  being  very  downhearted  some 
times,  when  time  passed,  and  we  heard  nothing  of 
you,  and  I  was  obliged  to  give  you  up." 

"  You  should  not  have  given  me  up." 

"Yes;  there  was  nothing  else  for  it.  I  found  it 
was  best  not  to  think  about  you  at  all.  Happily 
I  had  plenty  of  duties  to  think  of.  And  duties,  if 
you  take  hold  of  them  right,  become  pleasures." 

"  Doing  them  for  the  Master." 

"Yes,  and  for  our  fellow  creatures  too.  Both 
interests  come  in." 

"And  so  make  life  full  and  rich,  even  in  common 

details  of  it.     But,  Queen  Esther, — My  Queen! 

Do  you  know  that  you  will  be  my  Queen  always  ? 
That  word  expresses  your  future  position,  as  far  as 
I  am  concerned." 

"No,"  said  Esther  a  little  nervously,  UI  think 
hardly.  Where  there  is  a  queen,  there  is  commonly 
also  a  king  somewhere,  you  know." 

"  His  business  is  to  see  the  queen's  commands 
carried  out." 

"We  will  not  quarrel  about  it,"  said  Esther 
laughing.  "But  after  all,  Pitt,  that  is  not  like 
you.  You  always  knew  your  own  mind,  and 
always  had  your  own  way,  when  I  used  to  know 

you." 


A  SETTLEMENT.  641 

"  It  is  your  turn." 

"  It  would  be  a  very  odd  novelty  in  my  life,"  said 
Esther.  "  But  now,  Pitt,  I  really  must  go  and  see 
about  luncheon.  Papa  will  be  down,  and  Mrs. 
Barker  does  not  know  that  you  are  here.  And  it 
would  be  a  sort  of  relief  to  take  hold  of  something 
so  commonplace  as  luncheon ;  I  seem  to  myself  to 
have  got  into  some  sort  of  unreal  fairyland." 

"  I  am  in  fairyland  too,  but  it  is  real." 

"  Let  me  go,  Pitt,  please  !  " 

"  Luncheon  is  of  no  consequence." 

"Papa  will  think  differently." 

"  I  will  go  out  and  got  some  oysters,  to  conciliate 
him." 

"  To  conciliate  him  !  " 

"  Yes.  He  will  need  conciliating,  I  can  tell  you. 
Do  you  suppose  he  will  look  on  complacently  and 
see  you,  who  have  been  wholly  his  possession  and 
property,  pass  over  out  of  his  hands  into  mine  ?  It 
is  not  human  nature." 

Esther  stood  still  and  coloured  high. 

"Does  papa  know?  " 

"He  knows  all  about  it,  Queen  Esther;  except 
what  you  may  have  said  to  me.  I  think  he  under 
stood  what  I  was  going  to  say  to  you." 

"  Poor  papa  1 "  said  Esther  thoughtfully. 

".Not  at  all,"  said  Pitt  inconsistently.  "  We  will 
take  care  of  him  together,  much  better  than  you 
could  alone." 

Esther  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Then  you  speak  to  Barker,  and  I  will  get  some 


642  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

oysters,"  said  Pitt  with  a  parting  kiss.  And  was 
off  in  a  moment. 

The  luncheon  after  all  passed  off  quite  tolerably 
well.  The  colonel  took  the  oysters,  and  Pitt,  with 
a  kind  of  grim  acquiescence.  He  was  an  old  sol 
dier,  and  no  doubt  had  not  forgotten  all  the  lessons 
once  learned  in  that  impressive  school;  and  as  every 
one  knows,  to  accept  the  inevitable  and  to  make 
the  best  of  a  lost  battle  are  two  of  those  lessons. 
Not  that  Col.  Gainsborough  would  seriously  have 
tried  to  fight  off  Pitt  and  his  pretensions,  if  he 
could;  at  least,  not  as  things  were.  Pitt  had  told 
him  his  own  circumstances;  and  the  colonel  knew 
that  without  barbarity  he  could  not  refuse  ease  and 
affluence  arid  an  excellent  position  for  his  daughter, 
and  condemn  her  to  school  keeping  and  Major 
Street  for  the  rest  of  her  life;  especially  since  the 
offer  was  accompanied  with  no  drawbacks,  except 
the  one  trifle,  that  Esther  must  marry.  That  was 
an  undoubtedly  bitter  pill  to  swallow;  but  the 
colonel  swallowed  it,  and  hardly  made  a  wry  face. 
He  would  be  glad  to  get  away  from  Major  Street 
himself.  So  he  eat  his  oysters,  as  I  said,  grimly; 
was  certainly  courteous,  if  also  cool;  and  Pitt  even 
succeeded  in  making  the  conversation  flow  passa 
bly  well,  which  is  hard  to  do,  when  it  rests  upon 
one  devoted  person  alone.  Esther  did  everything 
but  talk. 

After  the  meal  was  over,  the  colonel  lingered  only 
a  few  minutes,  just  enough  for  politeness,  and  then 
went  off  to  his  room  again,  with  the  dry  and  some- 


A  SETTLEMENT.  643 

what  uncalled-for  remark,  that  they  "  did  not  want 
him." 

"  That  is  true  1 "  said  Pitt  humorously. 

»  Pitt,"  said  Esther  hurriedly,  "  if  you  don't  mind, 
I  want  to  get  my  work.  There  is  something  I 
must  do,  and  I  can  do  it  just  as  well  while  you  are 
talking." 

She  went  off,  and  returned  with  drawing  board 
and  pencils;  took  her  seat,  and  prepared  to  go  011 
with  a  drawing  that  had  been  begun. 

"  What  are  the  claims  of  this  thing  to  be  con 
sidered  work?"  said  Pitt,  after  watching  her  a  min 
ute  or  two. 

"  It  is  a  copy,  that  I  shall  need  Monday  morn 
ing.  Only  a  little  thing.  I  can  attend  to  you  just 
the  same." 

"  A  copy  for  whom  ?  " 

"  One  of  my  scholars,"  she  said  with  a  smile  at 
him. 

"That  copy  will  never  be  wanted.'* 

"Yes,  I  want  it  for  Monday;  and  Monday  I 
should  have  no  time  to  do  it;  so  I  thought  I  would 
finish  it  now.  It  will  not  take  me  long,  Pitt." 

"Queen  Esther,"  said  he  laying  his  hand  over 
hers,  "  all  that  is  over." 

"  0  no,  Pitt — how  should  it  ?  "  she  said,  looking 
at  him  now,  since  it  was  no  use  to  look  at  her 
paper. 

"  I  cannot  have  you  doing  this  sort  of  work  any 
longer." 

"  But !— "  she  said  flushing  high,—"  yes,  I  must." 


644  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"That  has  been  long  enough,  my  queen  !  I  can 
not  let  you  do  it  any  longer.  You  may  give  me 
lessons;  nobody  else." 

"  But! — "  said  Esther  catching  her  breath;  then, 
not  willing  to  open  the  whole  chapter  of  discussion 
she  saw  ahead,  she  caught  at  the  nearest  and  small 
est  item.  "You  know,  I  am  under  obligations;  and 
I  must  meet  them  until  other  arrangements  are 
made.  I  am  expected,  I  am  depended  on;  I  must 
not  fail.  I  must  give  this  lesson  Monday,  and 
others." 

"  Then  I  will  do  this  part  of  the  work,"  said  he, 
taking  the  pencil  from  her  fingers.  "  Give  me  your 
place,  please." 

Esther  gave  him  her  chair  and  took  his.  And 
then  she  sat  down  and  watched  the  drawing.  Now 
and  then  her  eyes  made  a  swift  passage  to  his  face 
for  a  half  second,  to  explore  the  features  so  well 
known  and  yet  so  new;  but  those  were  a  kind  of 
fearful  glances,  which  dreaded  to  be  caught,  and 
for  the  most  part  her  eyes  were  down  on  the  draw 
ing  and  on  the  hands  busied  with  it.  Hands,  we 
know,  tell  of  character;  and  Esther's  eyes  rested 
with  secret  pleasure  on  the  shapely  fingers,  which 
in  their  manly  strength  and  skilful  agility  corre 
sponded  so  well  to  what  she  knew  of  their  pos 
sessor.  The  fingers  worked  on,  for  a  time,  silently. 

"  Pitt,  this  is  oddly  like  old  times  !  "  said  Esther 
at  last. 

"  Things  have  got  into  their  right  grooves  again," 
said  he  contentedly. 


A  SETTLEMENT.  645 

"  But  what  are  you  doing  ?     That  is  beautiful ! 

but  you  are  making  it  a  great  deal  too  elaborate 

and  difficult  for  my  scholar.    She  is  not  far  enough 
advanced  for  that." 

"  I'll  take  another  piece  of  paper  then,  and  begin 
again.  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Just  a  tree,  lightly  sketched,  and  a  bit  of  rock 
under  it;  something  like  that.  She  is  a  beginner." 

"  A  tree  and  a  rock,"  said  Pitt.  "  Well,  here  you 
shall  have  it.  But  Queen  Esther,  this  sort  of  thing 
cannot  go  on,  you  know  ?  " 

"  For  a  while  it  must." 

"  For  a  very  little  while  !  In  fact,  I  do  not  see 
how  it  can  go  on  at  all.  I  will  go  and  see  your 
school  madam  and  tell  her  you  have  made  another 
engagement." 

"  But  every  honest  person  fulfils  the  obligations 
he  is  under,  before  assuming  new  ones." 

"  That's  past  praying  for !  "  said  Pitt  with  a  shake 
of  his  head.  "  You  have  assumed  the  new  ones. 
Now  the  next  thing  is  to  get  rid  of  the  old.  I 
must  go  back  to  my  work  soon ;  and — Queen  Esther 
— your  majesty  will  not  refuse  to  go  with  me  ?  " 

He  turned  and  stretched  out  his  hand  to  her  as  he 
spoke.  In  the  action,  in  the  intonation  of  the  last 
words,  in  the  look  which  went  with  them,  there 
was  something  very  difficult  for  Esther  to  with 
stand.  It  was  so  far  from  presuming,  it  was  so 
delicate  in  its  urgency,  there  was  so  much  wistful- 
ness  in  it,  and  at  the  same  time  the  whole  magnet 
ism  of  his  personal  influence.  Esther  placed  her 


646  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

hand  within  his,  she  could  not  help  that;  the 
bright  colour  flamed  up  in  her  cheeks;  words  were 
not  ready. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about?  "  said  he. 

"Papa — "Esther  said  half  aloud;  but  she  was 
thinking  of  a  thousand  things  all  at  once. 

"  I'll  undertake  the  colonel,"  said  he,  going  back 
to  his  drawing,  without  letting  go  Esther's  hand. 
"  Col.  Gainsborough  is  not  a  man  to  be  persuaded; 
but  I  think  in  this  case  he  will  be  of  my  mind." 

He  was  silent  again,  and  Esther  was  silent  too, 
with  her  heart  beating,  and  a  quiet  feeling  of  hap 
piness  and  rest  gradually  stealing  into  her  heart 
and  filling  it;  like  as  the  tide  at  flood  comes  in 
upon  the  empty  shore.  Whatever  her  father  might 
think  upon  the  just  mooted  question,  those  two 
hands  had  found  each  other,  once  and  for  all. 
Thoughts  went  roving,  aimlessly,  meanwhile,  as 
thoughts  will,  in  such  a  flood  tide  of  content.  Pitt 
worked  on  rapidly.  Then  a  word  came  to  Esther's 
lips. 

"Pitt,  you  have  become  quite  an  Englishman, 
haven't  you  ?  '* 

"No  more  than  you  are  a  Englishwoman." 

"  I  think,  I  am  rather  an  American,"  said  Esther; 
"  I  have  lived  here  nearly  all  my  life." 

"  Do  you  like  New  York  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  New  York.  Yes,  I 
like  it.  I  think  I  like  any  place  where  my  home 
is." 

"  Would  you  choose  your  future  home  rather  in 


A  SETTLEMENT.  647 

Seaforth,  or  in  London  ?     You  know,  I  am  at  home 
in  both." 

Esther  would  not  speak  the  woman's  answer  that 
rose  to  her  lips,  the  immediate  response,  that  where 
he  was  would  be  what  she  liked  best.  It  flushed 
in  her  cheek  and  it  parted  her  lips,  but  it  came  not 
forth  in  words.  Instead  came  a  cairn  question  of 
business. 

"  What  are  the  arguments  on  either  side  ?  " 

"Well,"  said  Pitt,  shaping  his  "rock"  with  bold 
strokes  of  the  pencil, — "in  Seaforth  the  sun  al- 
way  shines,  or  that  is  my  recollection  of  it." 

"  Does  it  not  shine  in  London  ?  " 

"No, — as  a  rule." 

Esther  thought — it  did  not  matter ! 

*'  Then ;  for  another  consideration,  in  Seaforth  you 
would  never  see,  I  suppose, — almost  never, — sights 
of  human  distress.  There  are  no  poor  there." 

"  And  in  London  ? — " 

"  The  distress  is  before  you  and  all  round  you ; 
and  such  distress  as  I  suppose  your  heart  cannot 
imagine." 

"  Then,"  said  Esther  softly,  "  as  far  as  that  goes, 
Pitt,  it  seems  to  me  an  argument  for  living  in 
London." 

He  met  her  eyes  with  an  earnest  warm  look,  of 
somewhat  wistful  recognition;  intense  with  his 
own  feeling  of  the  subject,  glad  in  her  sympathy, 
and  yet  tenderly  cognisant  of  the  way  the  subject 
would  affect  her. 

"There  is  one  point — among  many — on  which 


648  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

you  and  Miss  Frere  differ,"  he  said  however  coolly, 
going  back  to  his  drawing. 

"She  does  not  like,  or  would  not  like,  living  in 
London?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon !  but  she  would  object  to 
your  reason  for  living  there." 

Esther  was  silent;  her  recollection  of  Betty  quite 
agreed  with  this  observation. 

"You  say  you  have  seen  her?"  Pitt  went  on 
presently. 

"Yes." 

"And  talked  with  her?" 

"  0  yes.     And  liked  her  too,  in  a  way." 

"Did  she  know  your  name  !  "  he  asked  suddenly, 
facing  round. 

"Why  certainly!"  said  Esther  smiling.  "We 
were  properly  introduced ;  and  we  talked  for  a  long 
while,  and  very  earnestly.  She  interested  me." 

Pitt's  brows  drew  together  ominously.  Poor 
Betty  !  The  old  Spanish  proverb  would  have  held 
good  in  her  case, — "  If  you  do  not  want  a  thing 
known  of  you,  don't  do  it."  Pitt's  pencil  went  on 
furiously  fast,  and  Esther  sat  by  wondering  what 
he  was  thinking  of.  But  soon  his  brow  cleared 
again,  as  his  drawing  was  done  and  he  flung  down 
the  pencil  and  turned  to  her. 

"  Esther,"  he  said,  "  it  is  dawning  on  me,  like  a 
glory  out  of  the  sky,  that  you  and  I  are  not  merely 
to  live  our  earthly  life  together,  and  serve  together, 
in  London  or  anywhere,  in  the  work  given  us  to 
do.  That  is  only  the  small  beginning.  Beyond 


A  SETTLEMENT.  649 

all  that,  stretches  an  endless  life  and  ages  of  better 
service,  in  which  we  shall  still  be  together  and 
love  and  live  with  each  other.  In  the  light  of  such 
a  distant  glory,  is  it  much,  if  we  in  this  little  life 
on  earth  give  all  we  have  to  Him  who  has  bought 
all  that,  and  all  this  too,  for  us  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  much — "  said  Estherr  with  a  sudden 
veil  of  moisture  coming  over  her  eyes,  through 
which  they  shone  like  two  stars.  Pitt  took  both 
her  hands. 

"  I  mean  it  literally,"  he  said. 

"  So  do  I." 

"We  will  be  only  stewards,  using  faithfully 
everything,  and  doing  everything,  so  as  it  seems 
would  be  most  for  his  honour  and  best  for  his 
work." 

"Yes,"  said  Esther.  But  gladness  was  like  to 
choke  her  from  speaking  at  all. 

"  In  India  there  is  not  the  poorest  Hindoo  but 
puts  by  from  his  every  meal  of  rice  so  much  as  a 
spoonful  for  his  god.  That  is  the  utmost  he  can 
do.  Shall  we  do  less  than  our  utmost  ?  " 

"Not  with  my  good  will,"  said  Esther,  from 
whose  bright  eyes  bright  drops  fell  down,  but  she 
was  looking  steadfastly  at  Pitt. 

"  I  am  not  a  very  rich  man,  but  I  have  an  abun 
dant  independence,  without  asking  my  father  for 
anything.  We  can  live  as  we  like,  Esther;  you 
can  keep  your  carriage  if  you  choose;  but  for  me, 
I  would  like  nothing  so  well  as  to  use  it  all  for  the 
Lord  Christ." 


650  A  RED  WALLFLOWER. 

"  O  Pitt !— 0  Pitt !  so  would  I !  " 

"  Then  you  will  watch  over  me,  and  I  will  watch 
over  you,"  said  he  with  a  glad  sealing  of  this  com 
pact  ;  "  for  unless  we  are  strange  people  we  shall  both 
need  watching.  And  now  come  here  and  let  me 
tell  you  about  your  house.  I  think  you  will  like 
that." 

There  is  no  need  to  add  any  more.  Except  only 
the  one  fact,  that  on  the  day  of  Esther's  marriage 
Pitt  brought  her  a  bunch  of  red  wallflowers,  which 
he  made  fast  himself  to  her  dress.  She  must  wear, 
he  said,  no  other  flower  but  that  on  her  wedding 
day. 


THE    END. 


530  BROADWAY,  NEW  YORK, 
March,  1884. 


ROBERT  CARTER  AND  BROTHERS 

NEW    BOOKS. 


HANDS  FULL  OF  HONEY,  and  other  Sermons,  preached 
in  1883,  by  C.  H.  SPURGEON.     i2mo.    $1.00. 

New  Sermons  by  C.  H.  SPUR- 


THE  PRESENT  TRUTH. 

GEON.   *iamo.     $1.00. 
SERMONS.     10  vols.     i2mo .    .  $10.00 

Any  -volume  sold  separately  at  |i.oo. 

MORNING  BY  MORNING,    ismo  i.oo 

EVENING  BY  EVENING.    12010  .  i.oo 

TYPES  AND  EMBLEMS.    i2mo  .  .00 

SAINT  AND  SAVIOUR.    i2mo    .  .00 

FEATHERS  FOR  ARROWS.    iamo  .00 

LECTURES  TO  STUDENTS.  i2mo  .00 

SPURGEON'S  GEMS.     i2mo    .    .  .00 


COMMENTING  AND  COMMENTA. 

RIES.       I2mO $I.OO 

JOHN  PLOUGHMAN'S  TALK  .  .  .75 
JOHN  PLOUGHMAN'S  PICTURES. 

i6mo 75 

JOHN  PLOUGHMAN'S  TALK  AND 

PICTURES  i2mo i.oo 

GLEANINGS  AMONG  THE  SHEAVES. 

i8mo 60 


THE    LIFE    AND     WORKS     OF     THOMAS     GUTH- 
RIE,  D.D.     New,  neat,  and  very  cheap  edition,     n  vols.     $10.00. 
Or,  separately,  as  follows  :  — 

GUTHRIE'S   AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

AND  LIFE.     2  vols.     i2mo  .  $2.00 

THE  GOSPEL  IN  EZEKIEL.  isrno 

THE  SAINT'S  INHERITANCE  . 


i.oo 
i.oo 

THE  WAY  TO  LIFE.  i2mo.  .  i.oo 
ON  THE  PARABLES.  Illustrated,  i.oo 
THE  CITY  AND  RAGGED  SCHOOLS,  i.oo 


MAN  AND   THE    GOSPEL,   AND 
OUR    FATHER'S   BUSINESS. 
In  i  vol.     i2mo      ....  $1.00 
SPEAKING  TO  THE  HEART.  i2mo    i.oo 
OUT  OF  HARNESS.     i2mo    .     .     i.oo 
STUDIES  OF  CHARACTER.    i2mo    i.oo 


CARTERS'   RECENT  BOOKS. 


WORKS   OF   THE    REV.  T.  L.  CUYLER,  D.D. 


THE  EMPTY  CRIB.     241110,  gilt .  $1.00 
STRAY  ARROWS.     i8mo    ...       .60 
CEDAR  CHRISTIAN.     i8mo    .     .       .75 
THOUGHT   HIVES.      With   Por 
trait.     i2mo 1.50 


POINTED  PAPERS.  i2mo  .  .  $1.50 
FROM  THE  NILE  TO  NORWAY. 

i2mo 1.50 

GOD'S  LIGHT  ON  DARK  CLOUDS. 

i8mo 75 


*A.  L.  O.  E.  LIBRARY.  New  and  very  beautiful  edition. 
Complete  in  50  volumes.  i6mo,  crimson  cloth.  Put  up  in  a  neat 
wooden  case.  Nef,  $28.00. 

The  volumes  are  sold  separately  at  80  cents  each. 

*  OLIVE  LIBRARY.  40  large  i6mo  volumes,  containing 
15,340  pages,  in  a  neat  wooden  case.  Net  (no  discount  to  S.  S.  Libra 
ries),  $25.00. 

INFORMATION  AND  ILLUSTRATION  for  Sermons 
and  Addresses.  By  G.  S.  BOWES.  i2mo.  $1.50. 

THE  PUBLIC  MINISTRY  AND  PASTORAL  METH 
ODS  OF  OUR  LORD.  By  W.  G.  BLAIKIE,  D.D.  $1.50. 

PHILOSOPHY  AND  CHRISTIANITY.  By  Prof.  GEORGB 
S.  MORRIS.  i2mo.  $1.75.  * 

HOW  SHALL  I  GO  TO  GOD  ?  By  HORATIUS  BONAR,  D.D. 
i8mo.  40  cents. 

THE  HUMAN  MIND.  By  EDWARD  J.  HAMILTON,  D.D. 
8vo.  $3.00. 

MOSES  AND  THE  PROPHETS.     By  Dr.  W.  H.  GREEN. 

i2mo.    $1.00. 

THE  NEW  TESTAMENT  SCRIPTURES  :  Their  Claims, 
History,  and  Authority.  By  A.  H.  CHARTERIS,  D.D.  8vo.  $2.00. 

THE  LIFE  AND  LABORS  OF  ROBERT  MOFFAT, 

Missionary  to  Africa.     i2mo.     $1.25. 

ARNOT  ON  THE  PARABLES.    New  edition.  I2mo.  $1.75. 


CARTERS'  RECENT  BOOKS. 


FROM    YEAR    TO    YEAR.      Hymns  and  Poems.     By  the 
Rev.  E.  H.  BICKERSTETH.     i8mo.    $1.25. 

FAITH   THURSTON'S    WORK.     By  the  author  of  "Win 
and  Wear."    12010.    $1.25. 

THROUGH   THE   NARROWS.     By  W.  W.  EVERTS,  D.D, 
i6mo.     60  cents. 

HAUSSER'S     PERIOD     OF    THE     REFORMATION. 

New  edition.     i2mo.    $2.50. 


J.    M.   DRINKWA1 

RUE'S  HELPS  .     .                          * 

'ER 

•5° 
•so 
.50 
•50 
•50 

CONKLIN'S    BOOKS. 

TESSA    WADSWORTH'S     DISCI- 

ELECT  A:  A  STORY  .     .    . 

BEK'S  FIRST  CORNER  .    . 
Miss  PRUDENCE  .... 

NOT  BREAD  ALONE     ....     1.25 
FRED  AND  JEANIE  1.25 

AGNES    GIBERNE'S   BOOKS. 


.JIMEE:  A  TALE  OF  JAMES  II.  .  $1.50 
THE  DAY  STAR;    OR,  GOSPEL 

STORIES 1.25 

THE  CURATE'S  HOME      .    .    .  1.25 

FLOSS  SlLVERTHORN      .      .      .      .  1.25 

COULYNG  CASTLE 1.50 

MURIEL  BERTRAM 1.50 

THE  SUN,  Moon,  AND  STARS    .  1.50 


THE  WORLD'S  FOUNDATIONS     .  $1.50 
DUTIES  AND  DUTIES    ....     1.25 

THROUGH  THE  LINN   ....     1.25 

SWEETBRIAR  ......     1.50 

JACOB  WITHERBY    .....      .60 

DECIMA'S  PROMISE 1.25 

TWILIGHT  TALKS 75 

KATHLEEN 1.50 


EMILY   SARAH   HOLT'S   BOOKS. 


I.  SO 

THE  WELL  IN  THE  DESERT  .    .      .25 
ASHCLIFFE  HALL                                50 

THE  MAIDEN'S  LODGE     .     . 
EARL  HUBERT'S  DAUGHTER 

.     1.25 
1.50 

VERENA:  A  TALE   .                           50 

JOYCE  MORRELL'S  HARVEST 

1.50 

THE  WHITE  ROSE  OF  LANGLEY      .50 

AT  YE  GRENE  GRIFFIN  .    . 

.        I.OO 

LETTICE  EDEN    i  50 

j.  CQ 

FOR  THE  MASTER'S  SAKE    .     .     i.oo 

THE  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS    . 

.          .60 

CARTERS^   RECENT  BOOKS. 


EMMA    MARSHALL'S 

POPPIES  AND  PANSIES      .     .     .  $1.50 
DEWDROPS  AND  DIAMONDS  .    .     1.50 

REX  AND  REGINA 1.50 

DAYSPRING 1.50 

RUBY  AND  PEARL 1.25 

A  CHIP  OF  THE  OLD  BLOCK   .      .50 

FRAMILODE  HALL 50 

Violet  and  Lily   Series.      6 

vols.,  i6mo,  in  a  box  .     .     .     3.00 
SIR  VALENTINE'S  VICTORY  .     .     1.25 

MATTHEW  FROST i.oo 

STELLAFONT  ABBEY    ....     i.oo 


BOOKS. 


THE  LITTLE  PEAT  CUTTERS  .  $  .50 
ROGER'S  APPRENTICESHIP  .  .  .50 

KATIE'S  WORK 50 

CONSIDERATION  FOR  OTHERS  .  .50 

LITTLE  PRIMROSE 50 

THE  Two  MARGARETS  ...  .50 
Primrose  Series.  The  above 

6  vols.,  i8mo,  in  a  box  .  .  3.00 
BETWEEN  THE  CLIFFS  .  .  .  i.oo 
LITTLE  BROTHERS  AND  SISTERS  i.oo 
STORIES  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL 

CITIES 1.50 


THE   EMPEROR'S   BOYS.     By  ISMAY  THORN.    $1.25. 
WILD  HYACINTHS.     By  LADY  HOPE.    $1.50. 
MARJORIE'S    PROBATION.     By  J.  S.  RANKING.     $1.25. 

THE     CAGED     LINNET.      By    Mrs.    STANLEY    LEATHES. 

#1-25. 

SUSAN    WARNER'S    BOOKS. 

A    Story    of    Small    Begin 
nings.     4  vols.,  i6mo,  in  a 


THE  LETTER  OF  CREDIT     .    . 
NOBODY  
STEPHEN,  M.D  
THE  OLD  HELMET      .... 
MELBOURNE  HOUSE     .... 
PINE  NEEDLES    .... 

i-75 
!-75 
I-75 
2.25 

2.  CO 

King's  People,  The.     5  vols., 
i6mo,  in  a  box   
WALKS  FROM  EDEN      .     .     . 
HOUSE  OF  ISRAEL    .... 
STAR  OUT  OF  JACOB    .    .     . 
KINGDOM  OF  JUDAH     .     .    . 
BROKEN  WALLS  OF  JERUSA 
LEM. 

7-00 
1.50 
I.S0 
1.50 
I.SO 

1.2i; 

box 

WHAT  SHE  COULD  .     .     .     . 

OPPORTUNITIES 

THE  HOUSE  IN  TOWN  .     .     . 

TRADING 

The    Say    and    Do    Series. 

6  vols.,  i6mo,  in  a  box     . 
LITTLE     CAMP    ON     EAGLE 

HILL 

WILLOW  BROOK 

SCEPTRES  AND  CROWNS  .  . 
A  FLAG  OF  TRUCE  .... 
BREAD  AND  ORANGES  .  .  . 
RAPIDS  OF  NIAGARA  . 


$$.00 

1-25 
1.25 
1.25 
1.25 


7-50 

1-25 
1.25 
1.25 
1.25 
1.25 
1.25 


CARTERS'  RECENT  BOOKS. 


ANNA   B. 

THE  BLUE  FLAG 

TIRED  CHURCH  MEMBERS    .    . 

A  BAG  OF  STORIES      .    .    .    . 

LITTLE  JACK'S  FOUR  LES 
SONS  

Stories  of  Vinegar  Hill. 
3  vols.,  i6mo,  in  a  box  .  . 


WARNER'S    BOOKS. 

Ellen  Montgomery's  Book- 
Shelf.  5  vols.,  i6mo,  in  a  box  $5.00 
MR.  RUTHERFORD'S  CHILDREN  i.oo 
SYBIL  AND  CHRYSSA    .    .    .     i.oo 

HARD  MAPLE i.oo 

CARL  KRINKEN i.oo 

CASPER  AND  His  FRIENDS  .     1.00 


$1.25 

.50 
•75 

•  5° 


3.00 


DR.    RICHARD    NEWTON'S    BOOKS. 


THE  BEST  THINGS $1.25 

THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY    .    .    .  1.25 

THE  SAFE  COMPASS    ....  1.25 

BIBLE  BLESSINGS 1.25 

THE  GREAT  PILOT     ....  1.25 

BIBLE  JEWELS 1.25 

BIBLE  WONDERS 1.25 

NATURE'S  WONDERS  ....  1.25 

LEAVES  FROM  THE  TREE     .    .  1.25 

RILLS  FROM  THE  FOUNTAIN    .  1.25 


THE  JEWISH  TABERNACLE  .    .  $1.25 
GIANTS,       AND      WONDERFUL 

THINGS 1*25 

RAYS  FROM  THE  SUN  OF  RIGHT 
EOUSNESS  1-25 

THE  KING  IN  His  BEAUTY     .  1.25 
PEBBLES  FROM  THE  BROOK      •  1.25 
COVENANT  NAMES  AND  PRIVI 
LEGES  1<5o 


REV.   W.   W.    NEWTON'S    BOOKS- 

LITTLE  AND  WISE $1.25    I    THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE 


THE  WICKET  GATE 


1.25    |    THE  PALACE  BEAUTIFUL 


1.25 


BOOKS  BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "  WIN  AND  WEAR." 

HIGHLAND  SERIES.  6  vols. 

i6mo $7-5° 

HESTER  TRUEWORTHY'S  ROY 
ALTY  1.25 

MABEL'S  STEPMOTHER    .     .    .     1.25 


WIN  AND  WEAR  SERIES.  6  vols. 

i6mo $7-5° 

THE  GREEN  MOUNTAIN  STO 
RIES.  5  vols.  i6mo  .  .  •  6.00 

LEDGESIDE  SERIES.  6  vols. 

i6mo 7-5° 

FAITH  THURSTON'S  WORK  .     .     1.25 


BUTTERFLY'S  FLIGHTS. 
i8mo 


3  vols. 


2.25 


JULIA    MATHEWS'    BOOKS. 


Drayton  Hall  Series.    6  vols.  $4.50 
LAWRENCE    BRONSON'S    VIC 
TORY    75 


CHRISTY'S  GRANDSON 


-75 


ALLAN  HAYWOOD     .     .     .     .  $  -75 
FRANK  AUSTIN'S  DIAMOND.      .75 

EAGLE  CRAG 75 

TRUE  TO  His  FLAG     ...      .75 


6 


CARTERS^   RECENT  BOOKS. 


JULIA   MATHEWS 
Golden       Ladder        Series. 

3  vols.     i6mo $3.00 

Pare  to   Do    Right.     5  vols. 

i6mo 50 

GRANDFATHER'S  FAITH    .     .     i.io 
OUR  FOUR  BOYS i.io 


BOOKS  —  Contimied. 
GIUSEPPE'S  HOME    .     .    .    .  $I>IO 
NELLIE'S  STUMBLING-BLOCK    i.io 
SUSY'S  SACRIFICE      .    .    .  v    1,10 
KATY     AND     JIM,     containing 
"  LITTLE      KATY  "       and 
"JOLLY  AND  KATY"    .    .     1.2*. 


JOANNA   H. 

Bessie  Books.     6  vols.,  i6mo, 

in  a  box 

AT  THE  SEASIDE     .... 

IN   THE    ClTYV 

AND  HER  FRIENDS  .... 

AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS  .     . 

AT  SCHOOL 

ON  HER  TRAVELS  .... 
Flowerets.  6  vols.,  i8mo,  in  a 

box 

Little  Sunbeams.  6  vols., 
i6mo. ,  in  a  box 

BELLE  POWERS'  LOCKET  .     . 

DORA'S  MOTTO 

LILY  NORRIS'  ENEMY  .     .    . 

JESSIE'S  PARROT      .... 

MAMIE'S  WATCHWORD      .    . 

NELLIE'S  HOUSEKEEPING  .    . 


MATHEWS'   BOOKS. 

Kitty  and  Lulu  Books. 
$7.50  6  vols.,  i8mo,  in  a  box.  . 

1.25  Miss  Ashton's  Girls.  6  vols. 
1.25  FANNY'S  BIRTHDAY  GIFT  . 

1.25  THE  NEW  SCHOLARS  .  .  . 

1.25  ROSALIE'S  PET 

1.25  ELEANOR'S  VISIT  .... 
1.25  MABEL  WALTON'S  EXPERI 
MENT  

3.60  ELSIE'S  SANTA  CLAUS  .  . 

Haps  and  Mishaps.  6  vols. 
6.00  LITTLE  FRIENDS  AT  GLEN- 

i.oo  WOOD 

i.oo  THE  BROKEN  MALLET  .  . 

i.oo  BLACKBERRY  JAM  .... 

i.oo  MILLY'S  WHIMS 

i.oo  LILIES  OR  THISTLEDOWN.  . 

i.oo  UNCLE  JOE'S  THANKSGIVING 


7-5° 
1-25 
1.25 
1.25 
1-25 

i. 25 
1-25 
7-So 

1.25 
1-25 
1.25 
1.25 

1.25 
1.25 


CATHERINE    SHAW'S   BOOKS. 


THE  GABLED  FARM    .     .    .     .  $1.25 

NELLIE  ARUNDEL 1.23 

IN  -BHE  SUNLIGHT 1.25 

HILDA.     12010 1.25 


ONLY  A  COUSIN $1-25 

OUT  IN  THE  STORM 50 

ALICK'S  HERO i.za 


JEAN  LINDSAY    ......  $1.25 

DORA  HAMILTON'S  CHOICE.    .     1.25 
ELSI«  GORDON    ......     1.25 


EMILY   BRODIE'S    BOOKS. 

LONELY  JACK $i-aij 

RUTH'S  RESCUE 5? 

NORA  CLINTON i.oj 


UNCLE  FRED'S  SHILLING 


1.25 


CARTERS1  RECENT  BOOKS. 


L.   T.    MEADE'S    BOOKS. 


SCAMP  AND  I $ 

DAVID'S  LITTLE  LAD.    .    .    . 
A  KNIGHT  OF  TO-DAY    ... 

WATER  GIPSIES 

YOUR  BROTHER  AND  MINE.    . 
BEL-MARJORY 


DOT  AND  HER  TREASURES  .  . 
THE  CHILDREN'S  KINGDOM  . 
ANDREW  HARVEY'S  WIFE  .  . 
NORA  CRENA  

MOTHER  HERRING'S  CHICKEN  . 


il.OO 

1.50 

1. 00 
1. 00 
1. 00 


PEEP   OF   DAY   LIBRARY.     8  vols.     i8mo.    $4.50. 


LINE  UPON  LINE $  -5° 

PRECEPT  UPON  PRECEPT.  .  •  .50 
THE  KINGS  OF  ISRAEL  .  .  .  .60 
THE  KINGS  OF  JUDAH  ...  .60 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JUDAH     .    .     .  $  .60 

PEEP  OF  DAY 50 

SEQUEL  TO  PEEP  OF  DAY   .    .      .60 
STORY  OF  THE  APOSTLES     .    .      .60 


M.   L.   CHARLESWORTH'S    BOOKS. 


MINISTERING  CHILDREN      .     .  $1.50 
SEQUEL  TO  MINISTERING  CHIL 
DREN    i-5° 

ENGLAND'S  YEOMEN    ....     1.50 
OLIVER  OF  THE  MILL     .    .    .     1.50 


DOROTHY  COPE,  containing 
"THE  OLD  LOOKING- 
GLASS  "  and  "  BROKEN 
LOOKING-GLASS"  .  .  .  $1.50 


DEVOTIONAL    BOOKS. 

BICKERSTETH,   REV.  E.  H.    YESTERDAY,  TO-DAY,  AND 
FOREVER.     i8mo,  50  cents  ,  i6mo,  $1,00,  i2mo,  $1.50. 

BOGATZKY,   C.  V.   H.      GOLDEN  TREASURY.     241110,  gilt. 
75  cents. 

BONAR,   HORATIUS,  D-D. 

HYMNS  OF  FAITH  AND  HOPB  I    HYMNS     OF    T««    WATTVITY 

3  vols.     i8mo,  gilt  top     .     .  $2.25    |  iSrao,  gilt  .......  £1.00 

CLARKE'S   SCRIPTURE   PROMISES,     z^mo,  red  edges. 
50  cents. 


8  CARTERS'  RECENT  BOOKS. 

DICKSON,    REV.   ALEXANDER. 

ALL  ABOUT  JESUS.     i2mo    .     .  $2.00    |    BEAUTY  FOR  ASHES.     i2mo     .  $2.00 

DYKES,  J.  OSWALD,  D.D.    PRAYERS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 


FAMILY   WORSHIP.      PRAYERS   FOR   EVERY  DAY  IN  THE 
YEAR.    $2.50. 

FLETCHER,    ALEXANDER,    D.D.      FAMILY  DEVOTION. 
Quarto,  gilt.     $5  oo. 

JAY,    REV.   WILLIAM.      MORNING  AND   EVENING  EXER 

CISES.      2  Vols.     I2H1O.     $2.OO. 

LOGAN,   WILLIAM.     WORD  OF  COMFORT  TO  BEREAVED 

PARENTS.    $1.00. 

MACDUFF,  JOHN    R.,   D.D. 


Bow  IN  THE  CLOUD.  i8mo, 

limp $  .50 

GATES  OF  PRAYER.  iSmo,  limp, 

red  edges 75 

MIND  AND  WORDS  OF  JESUS. 
24mo,  limp,  gilt,  60  cts.  ;  red 
edges 50 

MORNING  AND  NIGHT  WATCHES. 
24010,  limp,  gilt,  60  cts.  ;  red 
edges 50 

FAMILY  PRAYERS      i6mo     .     .     i.oo 


MIND  AND  WORDS  OF  JESUS 
and  MORNING  AND  NIGHT 
WATCHES,  in  i  vol.  24010, 
red-line  edition,  gilt  .  .  .  $1.50 

GLEAMS  FROM  THE  SICK  CHAM 
PS 


WELLS  OF  BACA  24010,  gilt 

edges 50 

VOICES  OF  THE  GOOD  SHEP 
HERD  75 


MORE,  HANNAH.    PRIVATE  DEVOTION.    241110,  gilt,  60  cents; 

red  edges,  50  cents. 

RUTHERFORD'S    LETTERS.     8vo.     $2.50. 

SMITH,   REV.    JAMES.      DAILY  REMEMBRANCER.      iSmo, 

gilt  edges.     $1.00. 

SPURGEON,    REV.    CHARLES    H. 

MORNING  BY  MORNING.    12010.  $i  oo    |    EVENING  BY  EVENING.     12010.  $1.00 


CARTERS^  RECENT  BOOKS. 


IMPORTANT    BOOKS. 

A-RNOT,    REV.   WILLIAM. 

THE  CHURCH  IN  THE  HOUSE.              I    PARABLES      OF     OUR     LORD. 
Lessons  on  Acts,     izmo      .  $1.50    |  12010 

D'AUBIGNE,  J.   H.   MERLE,    D.D. 


*HlSTORY  OF  THE  REFORMA 
TION  IN  THE  TIME  OF  CAL 
VIN.  8  vols $8.00 


*HlSTORY  OF  THE  REFORMA 
TION  IN  THE  SIXTEENTH 
CENTURY.  5  vols $4- 50 

*THESAME.   5  vols.  in  one.  8vo.     i.oo 

"  D'Aubigne's  History  of  the  Reformation  is  in  all  respects  one  of  the 
grandest  literary  and  historical  works  of  this  or  any  age.  The  author's  brilliant 
genius  imparted  to  its  pages  all  the  fascination  of  a  romance,  while  his  re 
search,  study,  and  sound  judgment  have  invested  it  with  an  authority  that  has 
stood  the  test,  in  its  most  important  parts,  of  more  than  a  .quarter  of  a  century's 
criticism." — N.  Y.  Observer. 

*EDWARDS,  JONATHAN.    WORKS.    4  vols.    8vo.    $6.00. 

*HENRY,  MATTHEW.  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  BIBLE. 
5  vols.,  4-to,  cloth,  $15.00;  sheep,  $20.00.  Another  edition  in  9  vols., 
8vo,  cloth,  $20.00. 

"  First  among  the  mighty  for  general  usefulness,  we  are  bound  to  mention 
the  man  whose  name  is  a  household  word,  —  Matthew  Henry.  He  is  most  pious 
and  pithy,  sound  and  sensible,  suggestive  and  sober,  terse  and  trustworthy.  .  .  . 
I  venture  to  say  that  no  better  investment  can  be  made  by  a  minister  than  that 
peerless  exposition."  —  Rev.  C.  H.  Spiirgeon. 

HODGE,  REV.  A.  A.,  D.D.  OUTLINES  OF  THEOLOGY.  Re 
vised  and  enlarged  edition.  8vo.  $3.00. 

HODGE,    CHARLES,    D.D. 

ON  ROMANS.     i2mo    ....  $1.75    I    ON     CORINTHIANS.        2    vols. 

ON  EPHESIANS.     izmo     .    .     .     1.75    |  i2mo $3-5° 


10  CARTERS'  RECENT  BOOKS. 

KITTO,    JOHN.      BIBLE    ILLUSTRATIONS.     8    vols.      i2mo. 

#7.00. 

"  The  matter  is  attractive  and  fascinating,  and  yet  so  weighty  that  the  man 
who  shall  study  these  volumes  thoroughly  will  not  fail  to  read  his  Bible  intelli 
gently,  and  with  growing  interest."  —  Rev.  C-  H.  Spurgeon. 

McCOSH,  JAMES,   D.D.    *WORKS.      Neat  and  new  edition. 
5  vols.    8vo.     Uniform.    $10.00. 

"  This  is  a  set  of  works  that  it  is  an  honor  to  have  published  by  an  American 
house,  and  such  as  any  man  may  well  feel  the  richer  for  possessing  among  the 
books  of  his  library."  —  Independent. 

CHRISTIANITY  AND  POSITIVISM.  I    LOGIC,     ismo $1-50 

"mo $1.75    I 

MILLER,    HUGH.      LIFE    AND    WORKS.      6  vols.     i2mo. 

$9.00. 

"  Hugh  Miller's  writings  have  long  since  passed  the  period  of  criticism, 
and  taken  rank  among  standard  works.  From  the  times  of  the  British  Essayists 
and  Oliver  Goldsmith,  no  literary  man  has  shown  a  greater  mastery  of  the  Eng 
lish  language  than  Hugh  Miller."  —  Edinburgh  Daily  Review. 

POOL'S    ANNOTATIONS    ON    THE    BIBLE.     3  vols. 

#7-5°- 

Rev.  J.  C.  RYLE,  D.D.,  Bishop  of  Liverpool,  the  eminent  Commentator 
on  the  Gospels,  says :  "  Pool's  Annotations  are  sound,  clear,  and  sensible,  and 
taking  him  for  all  in  all,  I  place  him  at  the  head  of  English  Commentators  on 
the  whole  Bible." 

RYLE,  J.  C.,  D.D.    NOTES  ON  THE  GOSPELS.    7  vols.    i2mo. 

#10.50. 

"  It  is  the  kernels  without  the  shells,  expressed  in  language  adapted  to  the 
quick  comprehension  of  all  readers."  —  Christian  Union. 


RETURN  TO  the  circulation  desk  of  any 
University  of  California  Library 

or  to  the 

NORTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 
Bldg.  400,  Richmond  Field  Station 
University  of  California 
Richmond,  CA  94804-4698 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

•  2-month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling 
(510)642-6753 

•  1-year  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing 
books  to  NRLF 

•  Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4 
days  prior  to  due  date. 


SENT 


AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


MAY  2  5  1999 


U.  C.  BERKELEY 


12,000(11/95) 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


M510742 


